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palioom · 10 months ago

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little dove

summary: your first attendance of a huge feast is bothersome, alone and inexperienced as you are. until the eyes of a certain prince won't stop following you.

pairing: oberyn martell x f!reader

word count: 4.5k

warnings: 18+ content; no use of y/n; virginity/innocence kink; implied age gap (oberyn is in his early 40s, reader early 20s); fingering; unprotected p in v; creampie; some biting

a/n: another fic from last summer, hope you enjoy! ; headers & dividers by @/saradika-graphics

follow @palioomfics & turn on notifs for future updates

• masterlist •

Oberyn had been watching her all night already, his dark eyes following the shape of her wherever she went. Between the bustle of the people, her bright orange glowing dress like the sun, rising and settling as she appeared and disappeared, standing around like she didn’t know what to do with herself.

It was adorable, a smirk gracing his features as he watched her wring her hands, smiling sheepishly when someone approached her.

So innocent.

He could see the nervousness on her face from where he sat, the uncertainty, clearly not used to people approaching her.

He could see the heavy rise and fall of her chest, exposed by the deep cut of her garments.

Taking another sip of his wine, Oberyn stood, deciding now was his time.

The festivities had been going on for a while, and even though he had planned on celebrating with a group of people in his bedchambers later, she had thrown those plans into the wind the second he set sight on her.

Something just intrigued him, maybe it was the innocence she seemed to harbour, maybe it was her beauty.

Whatever it was, he had to know more, waiving away another woman that approached him with a polite smile, then walking over to the mysterious woman.

She looked around nervously, playing with the rings on her hands as people passed by her, some stopping to talk to her.

Feeling incredibly out of place at this feast, her first big one, she didn't quite know what to do. Her parents were somewhere, as were her siblings.

The lords trying to speak to her made her feel uneasy, knowing she was supposed to find a possible suitor at some point, but wanting nothing more than to flee this place.

In fact, she was thinking about just leaving, when she was approached again.

Tall, dark haired and handsome. The Prince of Dorne, Oberyn Martell.

She had seen him at his table, stealing a glance every once in a while and looking away when his dark eyes caught hers.

And now he stood in front of her, flashing her a wide smile.

“My Prince.” She said, curtsying as well as she could, perhaps a little clumsily.

Out of everything she had expected to happen today, she did not expect for him to approach her.

“Do you intend to sulk in the shadows all night, my dove?”

She blinked up at him, once again playing with the rings on her fingers.

“I have not been sulking.” A frown graced her face, a slight tremble in her voice. His presence was intimidating, but different from the other people who had approached her. “I have been observing.”

Oberyn chuckled, taking a small step closer to her, watching her step back just a little in return. So close to her, he could practically feel the nervosity radiating off of her, trying to hold eye contact before they moved away again, looking at anything but him.

“Observing by turning down all lords and ladies who approach you?” He said, watching her fingers stop for just a moment, as if she had been caught, before fiddling with her rings again. “I must admit, I have been watching you for a while - you are the only lady not dancing, not talking to anyone. Just standing in your corner, sometimes moving to follow the servants for a drink or something to eat.”

She stayed quiet. Had she been that noticeable? Just by standing around, hoping for a saving grace?

“I assume this to be your first attendance at a feast this big, am I correct, my dove?”

That nickname.

It made her feel warm, a different kind of warmth than the Dornish weather. Running through her in an unfamiliar fashion, her veins like molten metal, a strange feeling moving up her spine..

“Yes, my Prince.” She said, nodding, but not looking at him.

Oberyn noticed how she became more nervous, smirking at the display in front of him.

“My parents have kept me from them for long, I was only ever allowed to attend small ones.” She continued, sighing. “It is quite overwhelming. I am inexperienced in these kinds of things.”

Her words made him inhale sharply through his nose, still smiling.

If she was inexperienced in this, what else was she inexperienced in?

He had wanted her before, but now the desire for her burned even brighter. Oberyn wanted to show her the things her parents have undoubtedly sheltered her from.

To keep their daughter pure for a potential suitor.

“I understand, my dove. Would you perhaps allow me to accompany you to a place more quiet?”

Usually, he did not beat around the bush when it came to a potential partner for the night.

But it was different with her. If he was blunt he would simply chase her away.

She didn’t look at him, thinking about his question.

All the other men and women that had asked before had made her feel uneasy. Unsure why they wanted to whisk her away, promising a better night someplace else.

But the Prince of Dorne? He made her feel different. A heat and a pressure in her abdomen that she never felt before.

She knew of the rumours, that he took many partners, for whatever they did. Yet, as he stood in front of her, charming smile and good looks, she felt herself drawn to him.

Oberyn reached out, placing a finger under her chin and forcing her to look up at him. “I asked you a question, my dove.”

His fingers on her chin made her still, just looking up at him with her big eyes, lips slightly parted. The touch made that pressure worse, breath hitching in her throat.

“My Prince, I’m-” She stumbled over her words, unsure what to answer.

He just chuckled, a sigh leaving him. “You are quite easily flustered, my dove. Come with me, please.”

Holding out his arm for her to take, he hoped she would. Such an innocent, pretty thing. There was something so endearing about the way she was behaving.

She swallowed hard, looking from his face to his arm, hesitating for a moment. Something drew her to him, and after another moment, she hooked her arm into his with a nervous smile.

Oberyn walked her away from the feast, the noises dying down behind them as they walked the long corridors.

“What did the other lords and ladies ask of you, my dove?”

She sighed, glad to be away from the bustle in the halls, but feeling uncertain now, a throbbing at the apex of her thighs distracting her.

“They wished to take me away for some fun. I’m unsure what they meant exactly.” She didn’t look at him, too nervous to meet his dark, piercing eyes.

It was intimidating, she had never been in the presence of a man other than her father or her brothers alone. She knew how to behave, for the most part, but nonetheless was it a little scary.

Oberyn smirked, looking down to her, seeing how she only stared at the floor or ahead of them.

“You did not know what they were implying?” He asked, a bit amused but genuinely curious. “My little dove, you must be younger than I thought or your parents simply were too careless with your education.”

She remained quiet, her cheeks growing hot.

A sense of shame washed over her, that he thought she was too young. It was as if her friends were with her, giggling and whispering because of something she didn’t understand.

And when she asked, they never explained, finding it too amusing to laugh and belittle her.

There was something she was missing out on, and she hated not knowing what.

“My dove, you do not have to be ashamed.” He said, his other hand coming to gently rest on hers. “If you wish, I could show you.”

He had been right about the assumptions of her being a virgin, too innocent for her own good.

Walking next to her, he felt something else besides the desire for her, a need to protect.

As if he was the only one allowed to show her, that anyone else would simply take advantage of this fact.

Now her eyes met his, brows furrowed.

“Show me?” She echoed his words. “How? What exactly?”

Oberyn just smiled, eyes leaving hers to look at the guards standing by the door of his chambers.

He stopped, not too far away from the door, looking back at her.

“Do you wish for me to show you, my dove?” He asked, brushing back a strand of hair, tucking it behind her ear. “If not, I understand.”

She should be wary. Despite him being the Prince of Dorne, she should think about this. But she was curious, so curious about what this thing was that she had been missing out on.

And there was still that feeling inside of her.

“Yes, my Prince.” She said with a small nod. “I am curious, please.”

He chuckled, his knuckles brushing over her cheek. “Please, call me Oberyn, my dove.”

Moving along, the guards allowed them to enter, the heavy door falling shut behind them. Oberyn let go of her arm, walking over to a table to pour himself some wine, then offering her a cup.

She took it with a small nod, taking in his quarters. They were richly decorated, the bed massive.

Just how she would imagine it, if she had ever spent time on that before meeting him.

Taking a sip of her wine, Oberyn laid a hand on her waist with a gentle smile, pulling her closer to him.

“Most people stare when they first come here.” He said, his hand wandering up and down her side. “Don’t be nervous, little dove.”

She nodded, swallowing hard. That was easier said than done, the heat inside her becoming unbearable at this point.

His hand on her side felt like it was burning her, even through the thin fabric of her gown. Like it was hot coals placed on her.

“Have you ever been kissed, my dove?” He asked suddenly, eyes searching hers. Pulling her just a little closer to him.

She shook her head no, slowly. Heart beating in her throat, he was so close to her.

She could feel the warmth of him, twirling the cup of wine in her hand.

“Would you allow me to?”

There was some hesitation inside her, her hands stilling. Should she allow him to? She wanted to, somehow.

Often had she imagined what it felt like, kissing someone.

Her answer came in the form of a nod, her head barely moving.

Oberyn smiled, his hand coming up to cup her cheek.

“Oh, my little dove.”

Despite his growing desire, he moved gently, bending down to place his lips onto hers. The small gasp that left her made him chuckle, his other hand coming to rest on her hip and pull her hips flush against his.

She stiffened beneath his touch, liking the way his lips felt on hers, surprisingly soft, while his beard and moustache tickled her skin. Holding onto her cup tightly, she closed her eyes, humming when he deepened the kiss and she tried to match his movements, clumsy and inexperienced.

When he parted from her, she chased after him, opening her eyes when she couldn’t. Oberyn laughed at that, staying close to her, his thumb brushing over her cheek.

She looked adorable, the way she greedily breathed in air, lips slightly parted. Still too nervous, too stiff.

“What do you think, my dove?” He asked, leaning closer again so their noses were almost touching. “Would you like for me to show you more? There is quite an array of things I could assist you with.”

His fingers curled into her hip, and when she nodded, he only smiled wider.

“I promise to be gentle, my dove. A beauty such as you needs to be handled with care.”

She didn’t know what he meant, but it didn’t matter, because as soon as he kissed her again, more eager this time, her mind went blank.

His hand briefly left her hip to take the cup from her hands, placing it on the table next to them, before it was back, pulling her against his chest and making her gasp.

Letting his tongue glide against hers at the opportunity, Oberyn heard her muffled moan, relishing in the sweet sound.

The way she tried to kiss him back was delightful, so tender and new, trying to keep up with him.

Slowly he manoeuvred her back towards the bed, having to hold onto her waist as her steps became unsure, stumbling backwards once, her cheeks glowing even hotter.

The throbbing only became more intense, and when they reached the bed and he gently pushed her to sit at the foot of it, she squeezed her thighs together, looking for relief.

There was a wetness now that felt foreign to her.

Oberyn noticed, amused at the display.

“Are you aching, my dove?” He asked, his hands coming to the belt tied around his waist.

Aching.

It did hurt, but in a different way. Not like a bruise or a cut.

She nodded. “A little. My Prince- Oberyn, what- I don’t understand what is happening.”

Poor thing. Her parents had done a horrible job to prepare their daughter.

To leave her in the dark at such an age.

She watched him undo his belt, letting it fall to the floor before motioning for her to move further back to the middle of the bed.

“You’re aroused, my dove. You feel the need for cock.” He explained, shedding his robe, then crawling over her. “Have you seen a cock before, little dove?”

Her mouth went dry as she watched him undress, now only clad in a dark orange tunic and his breeches.

Aroused.

Of course. But was she really aroused by him? In need of his cock?

She nodded, and she could see a flash of surprise grace his features.

“In the bathhouses, yes.” She tried to hold his gaze, now hovering over her and letting his hand glide down her side. “From afar.”

He chuckled, leaning down to kiss her cheek, then her neck, hearing the breathy moan spill from her lips, feeling her back arch slightly.

“In the bathhouses…” He repeated in a whisper, still some amusement in his voice. “Yet you don’t know a thing about this… about desire and fucking.”

The word felt vulgar, so close to her ear.

And she felt embarrassed again. That she didn’t know more, that she didn’t understand she was aroused just by him being near her, by him kissing her, by him hovering over her.

“Do you want me to show you, my dove? The thrill of desire?” He asked, still mouthing along her neck, gently, just feeling her as she squirmed, her own hands coming to rest on his broad shoulders. “How to fuck?”

Her breath hitched in her throat when he sucked at the junction of her neck and shoulder, a throaty moan leaving her.

“I- I do not know, Oberyn.” She stammered, fingers digging into his shoulders. The throbbing and the pressure were distracting her, just needing relief. “It hurts, it really hurts.”

His hand moved lower, down her side and to her thigh, gathering her skirts before it dipped below them.

“I can help you, my dove.” His hand wandered between her thighs, finding her dripping already, a soft sound escaping him at the feeling. “Oh, my dove. Wet and gushing like a waterfall and I have barely touched you.”

He sounded pitying almost, his fingers slipping between her folds, raising his head to watch her face when he found her clit.

A hiss left her, looking at him with wide eyes at the foreign feeling. It felt good, strange but good.

“Have you never touched yourself before? Brought yourself to the peak of pleasure?” He asked, drawing slow circles into her clit, with featherlight touches.

She shook her head, trying to keep her eyes open, her legs opening further.

“Never, I didn’t know-”

“You poor thing.” He cooed, kissing her.

When his fingers left her again, she whined in protest, one of her hands reaching out to grab his wrist.

She didn’t even really know what was happening, simply that his touch felt good and that she wanted more.

Needed more.

The burning sensation inside her was so consuming and overwhelming while also hurting her.

“Oberyn, please, continue.” She said, guiding his hand back down but he escaped her grasp.

“Do you know anything about this, my dove? About fucking, the feeling of something stretching you open? Feeling somebody’s naked skin against yours?”

Stretching her open? It sounded painful, she couldn’t imagine how anything could do that, and where.

But she didn’t want to ask, didn’t want to embarrass herself further.

She shook her head again. “No, I don’t.”

He chuckled, his hand coming up to tug one of the straps of her gown down her shoulder, then further down her arm, exposing her breast.

“My little dove, so innocent, so pure.” A sigh left him, watching her face as he touched her breast, just lightly brushing over the hardened nipple. Nothing could have prepared him for just how much her innocence spurred him on. “I will take care of you, just allow me to do so.”

“Please, please, Oberyn.” She whined, desperate. His hand felt good on her, back arching off the bed and into his touch, her head thrown back as she closed her eyes.

This was what she had missed out on, something so good and intense. If only he could touch her again.

Slowly Oberyn undressed her, slipping the garment down her body and kissing each inch of newly uncovered skin. Taking in how she whined and moaned, took in a sharp breath or hissed at the sensation.

She felt exposed, once he sat back and pulled the gown down her legs, his dark eyes raking over her naked form as she laid before him, resisting the urge to cover herself.

So sweet and pure. And he would be the one to ruin her, to taint her beautiful body.

Thank the Gods it was him and not someone else.

“So pretty.” He said, a hand gliding up and down her thigh, the other working open his tunic. “My little dove, all for me to enjoy. I shall show you the heights of pleasure.”

She watched as he shed the garment, exposing his toned torso, the muscles under his skin moving. She was mesmerized, despite having seen this so many times at the bathhouses, when she came to find her siblings or her parents.

His hands moved down to his breeches, opening them just as slowly as he had done with the rest of his clothing.

“It seems as if my little dove has found something she likes.” He chuckled, shedding the last piece of clothing, kneeling between her spread legs, just as exposed as she was.

Cock heavy and throbbing, her eyes were fixed on it.

It was bigger than what she had seen before. But she didn’t know if she should mind that.

“Don’t be scared, my dove.” Oberyn said, moving to hover over her again, one hand on her thigh, his cock brushing against her stomach. “I’ll prepare you to take me.”

“Take me?” She asked, gasping when his hand found that sweet spot again, applying more pressure this time and leaving her breathless.

He hummed against her neck, kissing and sucking on her skin, taking in her sweet sounds.

So adorable, needing to be taught. Not knowing what pleasures awaited her.

His hand moved lower and he felt how she stiffened when one finger pressed against her hole.

“Don’t be scared…” He repeated, slowly pushing a single digit in, groaning when he felt her squeeze around him, her nails digging into his shoulders with a whine.

It felt strange, his thick finger inside of her, moving in and out slowly. Yet it also felt good, her hips rolling on their own, legs opening wider.

“Oberyn-” She moaned, voice breaking, the pressure inside her easing just a little.

His mouth found hers again, continuing to move his finger slowly, his cock twitching at the thought of burying himself inside her soon.

“Tell me how it feels, little dove. You might be ready for another finger soon.”

She whined, concentrating on the foreign feeling, the stretch when he pushed a second finger in.

“It feels good, my Prince- Oberyn.” She breathed, her mind feeling as if it was floating on a cloud, hissing when he scissored his fingers inside of her. “It hurts a little, but it feels good.”

He chuckled, kissing her cheek and down to her jaw, then down her neck again.

“My dove, you feel splendid, gripping my fingers so tight with your sweet cunt.”

Something inside her built, blood hot like molten metal as it rushed through her, building her higher and higher until he took his fingers from her again.

A noise of protest died in her throat, his teeth softly sinking into her shoulder.

He grinned at that, lifting his head to look at her, bringing his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a deep hum.

“Finer than any wine.” Oberyn said, positioning himself so his cock was lined up with her. “My dove, I promise to be gentle. It may sting nonetheless.”

She nodded, drowsy and wanting nothing more than this ache to end. He said his cock would help, and so she wished for nothing more than him to enter her where his fingers just had been.

“Please, help me relieve this ache.” She said, feeling him against her, so much thicker than his fingers.

Oberyn watched as he entered her, grunting at how tight she still was, seeing her eyes squeeze shut and take a sharp breath.

It stung, he hadn’t lied about that, his lips finding hers as he pushed in further, muffling her whimpers while he buried inch after inch inside of her.

All the way until he was fully sheathed inside of her, hips flush against hers, one of his hands coming to rest on her thigh, squeezing it gently.

“It hurts, Oberyn.” She breathed when he broke from her, looking back at him, his lips on her cheek again.

“I know, my dove. You will feel better soon, don’t you worry.”

It was so new, the sensation of being filled, of him inside of her and stretching her out just as he had said.

Overwhelming, someone being so close to her, inside of her, his hot skin against hers, his soft lips on her cheeks.

The pain slowly fading into a need, the throbbing returning, as did the pressure.

Her hips moving on their own, making him chuckle, the sound vibrating against her chest.

“Are you sure you wish to continue already, my dove?” He asked, kissing a spot just below her ear that sent a shiver through her. “I cannot stop myself if we do, your cunt is simply too tight and inviting.”

She nodded, whispering a silent please.

So he slowly pulled back, setting a lazy rhythm of shallow thrusts, her dragged out moans like music to his ears, a little symphony written just for him as he drove back into her over and over again.

“You feel perfect, my dove, what an honour to teach you about the pleasures of the flesh.” Oberyn groaned, his hands grabbing her legs and wrapping them around his hips, making her whimper loudly. “You won’t find a nicer cunt than that of this little virgin dove.”

She let him move, rolling her hips, trying to meet his thrusts, that something inside her building again, becoming stronger this time.

If this really was what she had been missing out on, what she had been ridiculed for, she never wanted it to stop now that she had it.

The feeling pleasant as the ache became less and less present.

Oberyn had to hold back to not just drive into her with his entire force, losing himself in how good she felt, but still wanting this to be something good for her, as much as he desired her.

Already knowing he would seek her out again and again, her innocence far from gone, her sounds so sweet in his ears, her hands so soft as they grabbed at him, trying to find purchase on his body.

“My dove, you are close, I can feel you.” He rasped, his movements becoming sloppier, lips dancing over her skin. “You’re close, aren’t you?”

“Close to what?” She asked, words catching on her breath, feeling something but unsure if it was what he meant.

Gods, she was so adorable.

“Oh, you will see, my dove.”

His hand moved between them, finding her clit.

And with just a few movements, something snapped inside of her so suddenly and with such force that all breath left her, a strangled noise catching in her chest as her veins burned, the pressure in her abdomen released.

She was trembling, holding him against her tightly as he kept moving, thrusts harsher now.

“There you are, my little dove, isn’t that wonderful? The heights, the peak?”

It was a pretty sight, her face contorted in bliss and pleasure but also so shocked by what was happening to her, by these new feelings.

She could only whine, falling silent when she heard him grunt deeply into her ear, stilling above her.

Spilling himself deep inside of her before rolling off of her, not separating but rolling her with him so she came to rest on top of him.

She felt exhausted suddenly, the euphoric feelings still coursing through her veins.

And he felt solid beneath her body, catching his breath just as she did, his hands carding through her hair.

“Now, my dove, how do you feel?” He asked, watching her face as she rested on him. “Are you satisfied?”

If anyone had told her just a few hours ago that she would land in the bed of the Prince of Dorne, she would have laughed at them.

But now, it seemed quite nice.

She nodded. “I feel exhausted, but I am very grateful for what you showed me.”

A smile stretched her lips wide, he liked it. She seemed to be less nervous.

He chuckled, one hand wandering down to smooth over her back. Normally he would be far from done, already planning another round of pleasure.

But she truly seemed too exhausted by this. After all, she hadn’t even known about any of this until now.

Her eyes drifted shut, but she was still awake, listening to his heartbeat.

“Oh, my dove.” He said quietly, kissing the top of her head. “There is so much more to show you, I am far from done with you.”

She felt warm at the idea, curious what else there was to discover. Her eyes felt too heavy to open them again, slowly drifting off into sleep on top of him.

Oberyn simply smiled, sighing deeply.

Yes, he was far from done.

There was so much to learn, so much to discover.

And he couldn’t wait to see her face once he began to truly teach his little dove.

#oberyn martell #oberyn martell x reader #oberyn martell fanfiction #oberyn martell smut #oberyn martell x you #game of thrones #pedro pascal #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fandom #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x you #pedrostories #my writing

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parkerflix · 1 year ago

Text

—cielo en la mente

miles morales x gn!reader

genre: fluff, angst

wc: 4.5k

synopsis: miles morales had you seeing double. but what if it wasn’t your eyes playing tricks?

warnings: atsv spoilers! canon divergence

taglist: CLOSED as of 6/19!

part of my 1k celebration! & part two to this fic!

You had been ignoring Miles lately. It wasn’t that you wanted to see him, but you were confused. Nothing seemed to make sense, or add up.

You sighed, sweeping up the last of the hair on the ground. You mom had already packed up and gone home, telling you to finish the last of the cleaning while she got dinner ready. You went over to the wash bowls, rinsing the hair brushes from the barbicide.

The front door had been locked, and music was playing from the speakers. A bang came from the front door, and you turned around to see Miles standing there.

His hair was out of braids again, and he seemed to be wearing the baggiest jeans and sweater you’d ever seen. He waved at you awkwardly, and you walked over, standing in front of the lock. His eyes were pleading with you to open the door, and you sighed, knowing you wouldn’t be able to leave him outside.

You unlocked the door & opened it so he could come inside. The silence between the two of you was awkward, but neither one of you knew what to say.

“Hey.”

You fiddled with the keys, and went to lock the door, stopping when he asked you a question.

“Could you do my hair? Please?”

It was such a simple question, but it still caught you off guard. Miles normally never asked you to do his hair, he’d just show up during regular hours or text you in the middle of the night and you’d do his hair in your room.

You steeled yourself, and nodded.

“Yeah. Follow me.”

Miles quietly followed you to the washbowls, and sat down at a clean one.

“Do you want me to use a different shampoo & conditioner?”

He was quiet for a moment,

“Can you use the ones you like the most?”

You hummed in agreement and pulled the mint scented shampoo and conditioner. You eyed the deep conditioning treatment, and grabbed that off the shelf.

Returning back to Miles, you leaned his head back into the wash bowl before starting the water.

“Let me know if it’s too hot or cold, okay?”

“Ah!”

You quickly turned off the water and panicked before you heard Miles let out a laugh.

“I was joking. The water is fine.”

You started up the water again and flicked some towards his face.

“Ack!”

“That’s what you get for scaring me like that!”

You both laughed, and soon it turned into a comfortable silence. Grabbing the shampoo, you made sure to lather his hair & rise it out. Miles was secretly a cry baby when he got shampoo in his eyes, so you covered his eyes with your hand.

Grabbing the deep conditioning treatment, you placed it in his hair, making sure to really get his roots. His hair had definitely seen better days, and you were confused how it got to this state when you were the last one to do his hair.

You finished with the deep conditioning treatment and went on with the regular conditioner, the minty scent hitting your nose as the cap opened.

“Smells good.”

Miles had been quiet up until now, and you genuinely thought he had fallen asleep.

“Yeah. Mint.”

He hummed.

“I like it, it seems to be very you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the comment, and nodded, knowing he couldn’t see you nodding.

You rinsed the last of the conditioner out of his hair, and wrapped it in a towel, tapping his shoulder to let him know you were done.

He opened his eyes and stretched out, reminding you of a cat.

“That was nice. You should do this as a profession, I think it would suit you.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Har har. You act like I haven’t been doing your hair and the neighbor’s hair since I could walk.”

Miles gave you a small smile and walked over to your station.

You got your tray ready with all your supplies, not noticing Miles was watching you.

You were different from Miles. He wasn’t sure if you existed in his universe, but he hoped that there was a version of you, hopefully near him. He had seen how you treated him, so gentle but had an edge with your words. He wondered what his counterpart in this universe meant to you.

“You know,” he started, catching your attention when he paused.

“You’re pretty special. You have a cool heart.” Miles inwardly cringed at that, wondering what the hell a cool heart could be.

“Mmm. Thanks.”

“Also, thanks for doing my hair.”

You nodded, ignoring the way something in your stomach flipped.

Miles was never one to outwardly express his gratitude, he was always the type to just show his gratitude and appreciation in smaller ways. He was more reserved with his words in that sense, and this change was different to you.

The rest of time you were doing his hair was relatively quiet, Miles asking you small questions here and there. You enjoyed the atmosphere, happy that you got to spend some quiet time with him.

You finally finished the braids after a little while, showing him the end result. It was the same style that you had done before, but you just thought he looked good in them.

Miles got up from the chair, and got closer to the mirror to inspect them.

He looked at himself in the mirror, unable to shake off a feeling of happiness that swam through him. His hair had never really been in braids before, it was something that he just assumed didn’t suit him, but here he was. He could tell that you put so much effort and love into them, it made his heart swell with joy.

He turned to you, and engulfed you in a hug. He wasn’t one to be affectionate with people he just met, but there was something about you that drew him in, and made him comfortable.

You froze for a second, before hugging him back, ignoring the nudging questions at the back of your mind.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

You had asked Miles that day if he wanted to come over for dinner, but had declined and said he had a few things to do. You understood, but felt a little sad that he wasn’t going to come over.

The rest of the night had gone by pretty unceremoniously, giving you time to think about Miles and his weird behavior.

You sighed and texted him, seeing if he was willing to meet you for breakfast in the morning at your spot. He quickly responded with a yes, and a small pit of anxiety formed in your stomach, nervous for the morning.

The next morning your alarm went off and you groaned, not wanting to get up. Turning your alarm off, you closed your eyes for a moment, before remembering you were meeting Miles for breakfast.

Swearing under your breath, you quickly got up and threw on a sweater and jeans, not even bothering to worry about anything else.

Your mom seemed to still be asleep, so you slipped out of the front door, quickly switching your slippers for shoes at the door.

Your spot wasn’t far from either of your houses, and the walk was always nice in the mornings.

Yosi’s diner was the place that you’d been going to even since you were little kids, back when there were 5 of you coming. Even after your parents stopped coming, you and Miles made it a tradition to only have breakfast there. It held memories of you guys sharing good news, and bad.

Miles had seen you cry because a date had stood you up the night before, and you had been his support when his dad passed. Yosi’s diner meant everything to you both.

You finally made your way to the entrance, the flickering sign feeling like a signal that you were home. Opening the door, the soft tinkling of the bell along with the smell of pie placed a smile on your face.

Yosi was standing behind the counter, telling one of the servers some instructions. She was slightly older than you & Miles, with an aura that made everyone comfortable around her. Her parents had opened the diner, naming it after her when they found the place, hoping for her to inherit it.

She glanced at you and smiled. Shooing away the server, she rounded the corner of the counter and came to give you a hug.

“It’s so good to see you! Donde estabas escondida? It feels like I haven’t seen you in so long.”

You chuckled, embracing her.

“I’m sorry. El salón está tan ocupado, toda la gente quiere su pelo arreglado. I’m sure quiñce season is right around the corner.”

She laughed a parted from you, turning her head to the booth at the end of the right side of the diner.

“He’s been waiting for you.”

You hummed.

“He’s in a mood, good luck.” She walked away after that, going back into the kitchen.

You took a deep breath and walked over to the booth. Miles had been watching you since you walked in, eyes never leaving you until you sat down.

“You’re late.”

You rolled your eyes.

“We never agreed on a time.”

“We always meet at the same time.”

Before he could respond, food came to your table, your usual and his usual.

He always got the same chocolate chip pancakes with some whipped cream and a few cherries on them. He never mentioned it, but you knew he got it because his dad used to get them and share with him. You assumed it helped him feel closer to his dad, and understood it was his way.

Both of you tucked into your food, not saying anything until he broke the ice.

“So, que quieres?”

“Damn, what’s with the attitude?”

“There’s no attitude here mamí, just asking a question.” He said, taking a big bite of his pancakes.

You dropped your cutlery, glaring at him.

“Seriously, qué te pasa? What the hell did I do to deserve this weird ass mood?”

Miles didn’t want to say what he was thinking, but he was jealous. He hadn’t seen you in forever, and he had passed by the salon the night before, seeing you doing someone else’s hair when you were closed. He could tell that you seemed comfortable with whoever the guy was, your smile the same you normally only gave him. He hated feeling this way, especially because you weren’t huge on jealousy. Previous partners of yours always were jealous of Miles, and you’d go to him and tell him how annoying it was, not knowing they had reason to feel jealous. He knew you better than anyone, and he wasn’t shy to show it.

“Nothing.”

You raised a brow, not buying his words.

He glanced up at you, seeing your eyes already trained on his face.

“What?”

“Seriously, what’s with you?”

“Nothing, mamí. How was your night last night?” He had hoped that switching up the topic would divert your attention.

“Well, mi mama hizo pupusas, she left some for you. She missed you at dinner, you know.”

“I miss your mom too. Tell her I’ll try to come over one of these days for dinner. Did you miss me at dinner?”

Your face heated up slightly, and you cleared your throat.

“I-no.”

Miles’ face had a huge grin on it, and you knew you were in trouble for it.

“Oh so you did miss me? Mamí, if you miss me that much, you always know where my house is, we could remedy that.” He winked at you, making you roll your eyes.

“First of all, you know I hate when you call me mamí. Makes me feel like those groupies Jaime has. Secondly, you wish I missed you. I haven’t climbed up your window since you decided you'd rather spend everyday with me, papi.”

He laughed at that, he knew you knew he hated being called papi by anyone but his mom. Somehow, whatever tension that had grown between you two had dispersed and left you both pushing away any budding feelings. The rest of breakfast had gone without addressing it anymore, and Miles was thankful.

When it was time for the bill to come, Miles stopped you before you could even pull your card out. You thanked him, and he waved you off, not too worried about it.

“Well, thanks for breakfast.” You said, grabbing your things and getting ready to leave.

“Can I walk you home?”

You nodded and you both got out of the booth, waving bye to Yosi when you left the building.

“So, what’s with the gentleman act?”

Miles clutched his chest like he was wounded and gave you the saddest look he could muster.

“Amor, cómo puedes decir eso? I’m always a gentleman.”

You pushed him slightly, making him burst out into a fit of laughter.

“The only time I’ve seen you be a gentleman was when you were dating that cute enby.”

“Which one?”

“The one with glasses??? God, I can’t remember their name but they really were like your polar opposite, I have no clue how you managed to date them.”

Miles thought about it, and nodded his head.

“Ah, I know who you’re talking about. They were cool. Liked science, and wanted to major in it. We still talk now and then.”

“Mírate, keeping friends who aren’t just me! Rio should be proud.”

“You’re annoying, you know that?”

“Yet you still hang out with me. Admit it, me amas.”

You were too busy looking around the neighborhood to notice Miles’ face get flustered, and he shrugged it off, knowing you didn’t have any hidden meaning behind it.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m stuck with you.”

You glanced at him and smiled, before realizing you guys had already made it to your apartment building.

“Well, this is me. Te veo mañana?”

He nodded and you gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before walking into your building.

Once you had disappeared into the building, Miles groaned and ran his hand down his face. His feelings for you were going to be the death of him.

The next day you regrettably had school.

Both you and Miles went to different schools, him getting into Visions and you going to the local highschool.

You slipped into your uniform, never quite getting used to how annoying the polo shirt looked on you. Fixing your hair a bit, you ran to grab your shoes from the doorway before Miles showed up.

Your mom was sitting at the dining room table, sipping a cup of coffee watching you frantically grab all of your stuff for the day.

“Llevaste comida?”

You grabbed an apple from the counter & a couple bucks off your piggy bank in your room.

“Yeah, totally.”

“Don’t be lying to me. No puedes ir sin comer, te vas a enfermar.”

“I’m not! I’ll see you when I come home?”

She nodded and you gave her a peck on the cheek, running over to your window and making your way down the fire escape.

Miles was already waiting for you, a shit eating grin on his face.

“Don’t-”

“Two days in a row, I’m starting to think you’re hiding a boyfriend up there.”

“Oh shut up.”

The walk to your school was fairly the same except today he bought you a breakfast sandwich. You gave him a questioning look, and he just ignored it.

Making it to your school first, you both stopped at the entrance, shuffling to the side to not block the doors.

“So, any big plans for today at school?”

Miles shook his head.

“Nah, there’s a bunch of lectures and maybe a lab or two. The school’s not that much different than yours.”

“Mmmm, well. Don’t forget to make friends!”

Before he could respond, someone behind you called your name and wiggled their brows.

“Nice boyfriend! Maybe that’s where you sneak off to all the time!”

You flipped them off & took a deep breath, turning back to Miles.

“Maybe you should be worried about making friends.”

“Nah, they just know you and I are close.”

“What’s that about though?”

“What?”

“You sneaking off?” Miles tried to hide the jealousy that was creeping into his voice.

“Oh that.” You scratched your neck and gave him a bashful smile.

“Everyone thinks I’m seeing someone but I go out and grab lunch nearby and then come back. We’re technically not supposed to leave campus so…”

Miles laughed and you felt some pride in your chest.

“That does make more sense.”

You both idly chatted for a little longer before the first bell rang, and you knew he had to go.

“I’ll see you after school?” You said, hopefully.

Miles shook his head and gave you a sad smile.

“Sorry amor, I gotta help my mom and my uncle with some stuff at home.”

You nodded, understanding.

He ruffled your hair and you swatted his hand away, annoyed.

“I’ll see you around then!”

He saw you walk into his school and checked his phone, seeing he was late for school. He didn’t really care though, knowing he would rather spend time with you than be on time.

On your way home from school, you decided to stop in at a bookstore.

You were strolling the aisles, trying to find something that you were interested in. You had found a book, and someone accidentally knocked into you.

“Sorry!”

You turned around and saw Miles there, in a completely different outfit from when you saw him leave for school.

“Oh hey! I thought you were helping your mom with something at home?”

Miles scratched his neck awkwardly and nodded.

“Yeah, turns out she didn’t really need my help.”

“Oh did Aaron have it under control?”

“Yes!” He coughed and glanced around the store.

“Yeah, she had him helping so there wasn’t that much for me to do.”

“So you decided to come to a bookstore?”

“Yes?”

You hummed and turned around again, looking for the book again.

You could tell that Miles was still hovering behind you, hearing the shuffling of his Jordan’s.

“Miles,qué quieres?”

“Uhh… I was wondering if that book was good? I’ve been trying to find something new to read that isn’t an action type of book.”

You whipped around, stumbling into him not realizing how close he had been behind you.

“Are you asking me for a book recommendation? Because if so, we should do a book swap!”

“Book swap?” He tilted his head and gave you a confused look.

“Yeah! We can find books from our favorite genres for each other! I know they have a little cafe area and we can read them there!”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“Great! Do you wanna meet up front in like 15 minutes?”

He nodded and you clapped and walked off to a different section of the store.

15 minutes later you both met up at the front, both with books in your hands.

Getting to the register, you plucked Miles’ book out of his hands and paid for both of them. He gave you a look and you just shrugged.

“Think of it as payment from breakfast yesterday.”

You thanked the cashier and both of you had made your way to the cafe.

Miles watched you order a drink, and declined your offer for anything. Both of you sat down at a couch, and you put the bag with the books in the middle.

Pulling out both, you handed him the one you picked out for him.

“Six of crows?”

“Yeah! It follows like a group of thieves and you get to see all the different perspectives, I really enjoy it.”

“Oh, sounds cool.”

You smiled and looked down at the book you held.

“Oh hey, Lord of the flies!”

“You’ve read it before?”

You shook your head, a small frown tugging at your lips.

“No, you and I used sparknotes to write my essay on it?”

Miles’ eyes widened.

“Right. Right.” He cleared his throat.

“Well, after that, I decided to read it and I think you’d enjoy it.”

You hummed and nodded, opening the book and beginning to read.

Miles opened his book as well, and was reading, until he felt your head on his lap. He looked down and you and you smiled, seemingly not thinking anything of it.

Miles on the other hand, his heart was racing and he was hoping you couldn’t hear it. He wasn’t uncomfortable per say, he just didn’t know if it was normal between you and his counterpart. You didn’t seem to notice his inner turmoil and were fixated on the book.

A little while had passed, and Miles had seemingly got more comfortable, mindlessly playing with a strand of your hair. You were halfway done with the book when your phone had gone off. You sat up, Miles’ hand dropping down to his side.

Picking up the phone, you saw your mother had texted you to come home, she needed you to run an errand for her.

Packing up your stuff, Miles stood up when you did.

“I gotta head home, my mom needs me to run a few errands for her.”

“Want me to help?”

You looked at him and smiled.

“Sure. I know mom would love to see you anyways.We can talk about the books on the way there.”

You both quickened your pace, and you grabbed Miles’ hand dragging him along with you.

Neither of you had realized the whole way to your house that you were still holding hands, fingers intertwined.

Miles had told you what he thought about the book so far, and he was interested in it. You explained some things he wasn’t sure about, and gave him some fun facts about the characters and the author.

In turn,he told you about the book he had recommended and about the movie that they had made based on the book. He hated the movie.

Finally getting to your apartment building, you climbed up the stairs to your apartment, dropping his hand to look for your keys.

You opened the front door and the smells of cinnamon permeated your senses.

“Ya llegué! Traje a Miles también!”

You kicked off your shoes and Miles followed suit, staring at the photos on the walls. The walls were covered in pictures of you and your mother, of you and him, and your families together. He pulled his attention away, following you into the kitchen.

You gave your mother a hug from behind, kissing the top of her head. She let out a laugh and shook her head. She would always say you’re her favorite child (you were her only child).

“Dónde estabas? Necesito que lleves esto para mi.”

“Estábamos en la tienda, quería otro libro para leer.”

Your mother turned to Miles, giving him a big hug. He hugged her back awkwardly and you snickered at his eyes pleading for your help.

She parted from him and pointed to the fridge.

“Te dejé algunas pupusas, llévalos a tu mamá también.”

“Uh gracias, I’ll make sure to take them to her.”

Both you and your mom shared a glance and she shrugged, before walking over to hand you a package.

“Just this?”

“Yes, and then no getting sidetracked, you have to come home straight after. I trust you will be with them, right Miles?”

“Si!”

He didn’t miss the way you bit your lip, trying to hold in a laugh. You both bid your mother farewell, and went to deliver the package.

The walk to the place was quiet, Miles had no clue where you were going. You cleared your throat, eyes still forward.

“What was that back there?”

“What was what?”

You stopped walking and Miles stopped a moment after, turning to look at you.

“That accent, Miles!”

“Huh?”

“My mom literally side eyed you, she was definitely confused as to why you were trying to pull a joke on her…”

“Oh, right.”

“I found it funny though, mainly because I do that to her all the time.”

“Right.”

Miles started walking again, and you followed behind him, grabbing his hand that was just swinging.

“Estás enojado conmigo?”

Miles stopped and looked down at your hands that were intertwined. He had a strange feeling in his stomach, he wasn’t sure if he could pinpoint it. He was trying to get home, to figure out how to even get back there, but he didn’t even know how long it had been. Time was relative and he wasn’t sure if he was too late.

He also didn’t know why he felt attached to you, a sense of comfort while being around you. He secretly hoped, that even at home, you would be there.

“I’m not mad.”

“Good. I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings.”

He squeezed your hand, giving you a small smile.

“Nah. You’re good. Don’t worry about it.”

“Hm, okay. But let me know if I do okay?”

“Got it.”

The rest of the walk to the place was filled with you two talking about different things, laughter from the both of you, once again never letting go of the other’s hand.

Miles realized that the area you guys were going to seemed familiar. It was his uncle’s place. His hands started to get sweaty, and he was panicking. He had actively avoided his family, watching from afar.

You, on the other hand, seemed perfectly fine. You hadn’t seen Aaron in a while, and you always wondered if he was doing okay. Miles always seemed on edge when you asked what he and Aaron did, which made you suspicious but you also knew he didn’t have to tell you everything.

You both made it to the hallway, and Miles squeezed your hand once more. You assumed it was an unconscious thing, but Miles did it to reassure himself.

“Why don’t I wait here for you?”

“Come on, I’m just gonna knock on the door and if he’s not there, we’ll leave it on his doorstep.”

He nodded and took a deep breath following you.

You knocked on the door, fully assuming no one would be home. Miles told you beforehand that he was helping Rio, so you just did it to reassure Miles. You weren’t sure if they had fought beforehand, but you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable.

You knocked once more, hearing a voice on the other end yell for someone else to open the door. You straightened yourself up, plastering a smile on your face. Miles rubbed the back of your hand with his thumb, taking another deep breath.

The door creaked open, and when you made eye contact with the person at the door, your heart fell to the floor. Miles Morales stood in front of you, still wearing his uniform, his smile slowly dropping as he looked at your hand, being intertwined with someone. He looked at the person, eyes growing wide and jaw clenched.

Miles next to you felt his heart stop for a second, unsure what to do. He was staring at himself, who if looks could kill, would have him 6 feet under.

You dropped your hand from Miles’, thoughts going a million miles a minute. The main thought though was:

What the hell is going on?

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hoe4hotchner · 1 month ago

Note

Hi! Congrats on 3k love! So well deserved.

Stressor with Professor!Aaron Hotchner who have to deal with one of his students (she/her!Reader) which is a complete brat during his classes 🫣 ❤️

Thank you!!! ❤️

The art of provoking | [A.H]

Pairing: Professor!Hotch x fem!Reader CW: Smut, MDNI, 18+, power play, age gap (consenting adults), Hotch is the king of consent, also the minister of making sure you're okay, bratty behaviour, teasing, piv, student/professor relationship, authority. WC: 4.5k

Summary: Professor Hotchner navigates the challenges of a bratty student who tests his patience while concealing a deeper desire beneath their banter.

I'm sweating, i'm panting, my nose is suddenly not stuffed anymore!!!! I'm laughing uncomfortably in a good way. I went so overboard with this one that the only thing i can say is bon appétit, enjoy this very delicious meal i'm serving for you.

Join my Profiling 101 - 3k follower celebration here

The lecture hall was quiet as Professor Hotchner stood at the front, his voice steady as he explained the finer points of criminal law. His presence was commanding, as always, and his students hung on to his every word - well, almost all of them.

You sat near the back, arms crossed, your notebook untouched before you, except for the occasional bored doodles. You hadn’t written a single word, and the look of disinterest on your face hadn’t gone unnoticed. You always found a way to test him, whether arriving late to class, challenging his points with sarcastic remarks, or simply tuning out altogether.

It wasn’t that you didn’t understand the material - you were one of his brightest students, in fact, you somehow managed to ace every single test despite your lack of attention in class - but you enjoyed pushing his buttons. There was something about the way his jaw clenched when you interrupted him, or the way his eyes would narrow whenever you challenged him. You liked getting a rise out of him, watching his usual exterior crack, even if only for a moment.

Today was no different. As Professor Hotchner continued his lecture, you slowly raised your hand, an amused smile playing on your lips.

“Yes?” he asked, pausing mid-sentence, his eyes locking on yours with that same unreadable expression.

You leaned back in your chair, feigning innocence. “I was just wondering, Professor,” you began, your tone laced with mockery, “how much of what you’re saying actually applies in real-world scenarios? Or is this just another theoretical debate you like to have in your ivory tower up there?”

The room went silent. A few of your classmates exchanged glances, but no one dared to laugh. They knew better than to cross Professor Hotchner, but you? You thrived on it.

His jaw clenched slightly, but his expression remained calm. He stepped away from the podium, folding his arms across his chest as he regarded you with a cold stare.

“Care to elaborate on that thought?” he asked, his voice dangerously smooth.

You shrugged, sitting up a little straighter. “I just think maybe we should focus more on what actually happens out there,” you said, gesturing vaguely, “rather than talking about hypotheticals all the time.”

Professor Hotchner nodded slowly, his eyes never leaving yours. “So you believe this class lacks practical application?”

“Maybe just a little,” you replied, biting back a smirk. You knew exactly what you were doing.

There was a brief silence, the tension thick in the room as he considered your words. Finally, he took a slow breath and walked toward the edge of the stage, his hands resting on the edge of the desk next to him.

“Let me clarify something for you,” he said, his voice low but firm. “Everything I teach in this class is rooted in real-world cases - cases I’ve worked on personally. If you’d been paying attention instead of trying to undermine every point I make, you’d understand that.”

You felt a flicker of satisfaction at the sharpness in his tone. He was getting annoyed. Good.

“Of course, Professor,” you replied, feigning contrition. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might snap, might finally lose that calm, composed exterior he always wore. But instead, he straightened up, his gaze never leaving yours.

“See me after class,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Your heart skipped a beat. You hadn’t expected that. Usually, he just brushed off your comments and moved on. But today… today was different. Something had shifted in the air, and the weight of it settled in the pit of your stomach.

The rest of the lecture passed in a blur. You couldn’t focus, couldn’t even remember what he was talking about. All you could think about was what would happen after class. You’d pushed him too far this time, and now you were going to have to deal with the consequences.

When the lecture finally ended, your classmates filtered out, casting curious glances in your direction. You stayed seated, watching as Professor gathered his papers at the front of the room. His movements were slow and deliberate, and it felt like he was taking his time just to make you wait.

Eventually, the room was empty, and Professor Hotchner glanced up, his eyes meeting yours across the room.

“Come here,” he said simply, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

You hesitated for a moment, then stood, walking down the aisle toward the front of the room. Your heart was racing now, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you neared him.

He didn’t move as you approached, his eyes locked on yours, his expression unreadable. You stopped a few feet away, suddenly unsure of yourself, but you weren’t about to back down now.

“Do you enjoy testing me?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

You shrugged, playing it cool. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He stepped closer, closing the distance between you in an instant. He was towering over you, his presence even more intimidating than usual.

“I think you do,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

The air between you was thick with tension, and you could feel your pulse quicken as Professor Hotchner loomed above you, his eyes locked on yours. He was close enough now that you could feel the heat radiating from him, close enough to make you realize that you may have pushed him a little too far this time.

His gaze was intense, scrutinizing as if he were trying to peel back the layers of your defiance to see what was really the root of it. You didn’t back down, though. You couldn’t - after all, this was the game you’d been playing for weeks, and retreating now would feel like defeat.

“Testing you?” you repeated with a hint of mockery in your voice, though it wasn’t as sharp as before. “Maybe I just like seeing how much it takes to get under your skin.”

His jaw tightened slightly at your words. He hadn’t expected you to admit to it, and certainly not with such brazen confidence. His eyes darkened, and his expression turned serious, a subtle shift that sent a thrill through you.

“I think you enjoy this far more than you’re willing to admit,” he said slowly, his voice was calm. “You push and push, hoping to see where the line is. But what happens when you cross it?”

Your breath hitched at the implication in his words, but you quickly recovered, masking your unease with a smirk. “I guess we’re about to find out, aren’t we?”

Professor Hotchner's eyes flickered with something you couldn’t quite place - frustration? Amusement? It was hard to tell with him. He was always so controlled, so precise. Even now, standing this close, he hadn’t lost his composure.

“You think you’re in control, don’t you?” His tone was quiet, almost too quiet, but there was an edge to it that made you shiver.

You opened your mouth to respond, but before you could say anything, he took another step toward you, closing the distance between you entirely. His voice dropped lower, more intimate, as he leaned in just enough that only you could hear him.

“You’re not,” he murmured. His breath ghosted against your ear, sending a shockwave of heat through you, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest. “And it’s about time you realized that.”

The challenge in his tone hit you hard, stirring something deep inside, but you refused to give in so easily. You weren’t going to back down, no matter how intense the tension had become.

You tilted your chin up slightly, meeting his gaze head-on. “You sure about that, Professor?” you replied, your voice soft but laced with defiance. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like I’ve been getting exactly what I want.”

His eyes flashed, getting darker, and for a brief moment, you wondered if you’d gone too far. He wasn’t just some professor to toy with - he was Aaron Hotchner, a man who commanded respect and had little patience for insolence who had climbed the ranks ever since he got his first position within the FBI. Yet, here you were, pushing him to the limit.

But instead of snapping, his lips curled into a tight, almost predatory smile. “You think this is what you want? You’re playing a dangerous game.”

His words hit you harder than you expected, the weight of them settling deep in your chest. You swallowed, suddenly feeling the anticipation between the two of you shift in a way that you couldn’t control, and the power dynamic you’d been clinging to started to slip through your fingers.

Professor Hotchner took a step back, his eyes never leaving yours as he surveyed you, taking in your defiance, your composure - everything you’d used to mask what was really happening beneath the surface. The authority he commanded in the classroom extended here, too, as if there was no escape from the weight of it.

“I think it’s time you understood something,” Hotch said, his voice low but firm. “You can’t keep walking into my class acting like you can undermine me and expect no consequences. If you think this is all just a game to push boundaries, you’re wrong.”

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his words settle in. There was no denying the power he held in this moment, and for the first time, you weren’t sure if you were in control of what was happening between the two of you. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but nothing came out.

“Do you have anything to say?” His voice was calm, but there was an unmistakable authority behind it that made it clear he wasn’t going to tolerate any more of your defiance.

Your pulse raced as you searched for a response, but the smirk you usually relied on had faded. He watched you closely, waiting for you to either respond or break under the pressure, but you held his gaze, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

After a long, tense silence, you finally managed to speak, though your voice was softer than before. “And what if I don’t stop?”

Professor Hotchner's gaze didn’t waver, but there was something different in his eyes now. Something darker, something that sent a thrill through you even as it made your stomach twist. His expression remained unreadable, his tone firm but quieter than before as he replied:

“Then we’re going to have a problem. One that you’re not prepared to handle.”

His words hung in the air, and for the first time, the reality of what you’d been toying with began to sink in. You’d pushed him far enough to break through the facade he kept up with the rest of the class, but in doing so, you had unleashed something far more vicious than you’d expected.

And now, you had to decide if you were going to keep playing this game - or back down.

He took a step closer again, his presence overwhelming as he looked down at you. His voice was calm, but the edge of authority was unmistakable.

“Because if you don’t stop,” he murmured, his voice dropping lower, “I’ll make sure you do.”

Your breath caught in your throat, your mind racing as the full weight of the power play between the two of you settled in. The tension crackled in the air, and it was clear that whatever happened next was entirely up to you.

You had crossed that line - now the question was whether you’d be able to handle what came next.

The air in the room felt suffocating, it was thick with unspoken words and the electric pull between you. Professor Hotchner's eyes bore into yours, and you could feel the intensity of his gaze as he stepped even closer. Your heart pounded in your chest, the sense of control you’d been clinging to slipping further away with each passing second.

Without warning, his hand shot out, grabbing your wrist firmly but not painfully, pulling you forward. Before you could react, he backed you up against his desk, the hard surface pressing against the small of your back. His grip was commanding, as though this was the moment he'd been waiting for.

“Enough is enough,” he muttered, his voice a low growl, his breath hot against your skin.

The words barely had time to register before his free hand came to your waist, pushing you back onto the desk in one swift motion. You gasped, your other hand instinctively reaching out to brace yourself on the edge as he towered over you, his presence was overwhelming. Your heart raced, but you weren’t afraid - if anything, the surge of adrenaline coursing through you made everything feel sharper, more exhilarating.

His hand tightened slightly on your waist as he leaned down, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours. The weight of his charge pressed down on you, but instead of cowering, you met his gaze with equal fire. The challenge in your eyes hadn’t faded.

And then, before you could say anything, his lips crashed against yours in a searing and desperate kiss.

It wasn’t gentle - it was rough, a battle for dominance as his lips claimed yours with the intensity that had been building between the two of you for weeks now. The force of it sent a jolt through your body, your mind going blank as you were consumed by the sensation. You tried to pull back, to push him away, but the second your hands came to his chest, something shifted.

Instead of shoving him off, you pulled him closer.

Your hands fisted in his shirt, yanking him down as you kissed him back with equal ferocity. The tension between you exploded in that moment, your lips moving against his in a way that felt both angry and frantic, a clash of wills as neither of you was willing to back down. You felt his hands tighten on your waist, pulling you further against him as the kiss deepened.

The sound of your own ragged breathing filled the air as you pushed yourself up from the desk, your body arching into his as you deepened the kiss, parting your lips slightly to let him in. You felt his hesitation for a split second before he gave in, his tongue sweeping into your mouth in a way that made your head spin.

The intensity was overwhelming, every nerve in your body on fire as you kissed him harder, needing more. You felt his hands slide up your sides, gripping you tighter as he responded to the challenge, the kiss turning even more heated, more desperate.

It was a power play in its rawest form, neither of you willing to give an inch, both of you consumed by the battle for control. The push and pull between you was intoxicating, and for the first time, you weren’t sure who was winning.

Your lungs burned as you both finally broke apart for a split second, gasping for air. The room spun, your lips tingling from the force of his kiss, and you barely had time to process before Professor Hotchner moved. His hands gripped your hips, lifting you slightly as he flipped you over, your stomach coming to rest against the wooden surface of his desk.

The movement was swift, almost effortless, and you couldn’t suppress the surprised gasp that escaped your lips. Your hands flew out to brace yourself against the desk, your chest pressing against the smooth surface as the world tilted beneath you.

Your legs hung over the edge, toes barely touching the floor, but before you could shift your position, you felt his hand on your lower back, firm, keeping you in place. The pressure of his palm was grounding, heavy with control as he leaned in close, his breath warm against the nape of your neck.

You shivered, but it wasn’t from fear. The tension had reached a fever pitch, and you could feel it in every inch of your body.

Without a word, he slid his hand down your thigh, only to pause halfway, gripping firmly before nudging your feet apart. His touch was assertive but not rough, guiding, commanding. You felt a flush of heat as your legs spread slightly, feet planted more firmly on the ground now, creating just enough space for him to step closer, his presence looming over you.

Your breath hitched as you felt his hand press firmly against your lower back, keeping you pinned in place. Every nerve in your body was on edge, the authority in his touch overwhelming yet thrilling. His warmth was so close, suffocating in the best way, and when his voice came again, low and commanding, it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Stay right there,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for disobedience.

Your lips parted, and the words slipped out before you could stop them, breathy and submissive. “Yes, sir.”

For a moment, there was only silence, but you felt him stiffen behind you, his grip tightening just slightly. Then, he chuckled softly, a dark, mocking sound that sent a jolt of heat through you.

“Oh, so you do know how to follow orders,” Hotch murmured, his voice filled with amusement as he leaned closer, his lips brushing the shell of your ear. “And here I thought you were incapable of it.”

His words dripped with sarcasm, and you clenched your fists against the desk, torn between the need to snap back at him and the overwhelming desire to submit. The way he mocked you, the condescension laced into every syllable, made your pulse race. He knew exactly what he was doing - pushing and prodding at the edges of your defiance, breaking you down piece by piece.

His hands moved with a sharp precision, gripping the hem of your skirt as he flipped it up over your stomach in one swift motion. The cool air of the room hit the bare skin of your thighs, sending a jolt through your body as the fabric bunched around your waist, leaving you exposed to his gaze.

He stood still for a moment, and you could feel his eyes on you, heavy and intense as if he were taking in every detail.

“So quick to submit now,” he murmured, his voice dark and almost mocking again. “I wonder where all that attitude suddenly went.”

His fingers grazed along the edge of your hips, teasingly light, and you had to fight the urge to arch back into his touch. Every movement was calculated, designed to remind you of who was in control now, and you knew he wasn’t about to let you forget it.

Professor Hotchner's lips curved into a smirk as he leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. "Look at you," he whispered, his tone dripping with satisfaction. His fingers traced the edge of your panties, feeling the dampness that had gathered there.

"You really are a brat, aren’t you?" he teased, his voice low and sultry. The way he pronounced each word made your heart race, a mix of embarrassment and excitement flooding your senses.

His gaze lingered on you, taking in the flush that crept up your cheeks and the way you squirmed under his touch. "I didn’t expect you to get so worked up, but it seems you’re enjoying this a little too much," he continued, the smirk never leaving his lips.

You could feel the heat radiating off your skin, the reality of the situation crashing over you. He had you right where he wanted you - vulnerable, exposed, and ready to follow his lead.

Professor Hotchner's hand shot out, gripping a fistful of your hair as he pressed your body further into the desk. The sudden pull made you gasp, a rush of excitement coursing through you. He leaned over you, his weight settling against your back, creating a pressure that heightened the thrill of the moment.

“You’ve been a real distraction in class,” he murmured his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine. The way he held your hair firmly yet gently sent a mix of vulnerability and exhilaration through you, amplifying the tension in the air.

With his body hovering above yours, you could feel the heat radiating from him, and it sent your heart racing. The cool surface of the desk contrasted sharply with the warmth of his presence, and you found it hard to focus on anything but him.

“What are you going to do about it, Professor?” you challenged, your voice laced with desire.

A smirk played on his lips as he tightened his grip on your hair, forcing you to arch your back slightly. “You’ll find out soon enough,” he replied, his voice thick with promise.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your ear, sending tingles throughout your body. “But first, you need to learn how to behave,” he whispered, the words igniting something deep within you.

As Professor Hotchner pinned your body to the desk, his free hand snuck down to your waist, slowly maneuvering your panties down to your knees. You could feel him as he rubbed himself against your pussy. Jolts of excitement ran through your veins with each teasingly slow thrust.

He couldn’t take it anymore. The tension had reached a boiling point, and he felt an overwhelming surge of desire pulse through him. He stepped back, allowing the space between you to grow, and a low growl escaped his lips, reverberating through the silence of the room as you tried to move, it was enough to keep you in your place.

You felt the sudden shift. The sound of his belt unbuckling broke through the stillness, each metallic click sending a shiver down your spine. You couldn’t see him, but you could imagine the intense focus in his eyes, the way he held himself with an authority that both thrilled and terrified you.

The soft hiss of his zipper being pulled down followed, and you felt your breath hitch, your heart racing as the anticipation built within you. You were acutely aware of the overwhelming silence surrounding you, punctuated only by the sound of your own heartbeat and the rustling of fabric.

With every sound, your body responded, craving the connection you knew was coming, and the knowledge that he was just behind you, poised and powerful, left you utterly captivated, longing for what was to unfold.

“Do you want this?” he murmured, his voice husky and laced with an edge of dominance that made your stomach flutter. It was both a question and a command, and the way he said it made your heart race even faster. The thrill of his control was intoxicating, sending a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

You nodded instinctively, unable to form words, the desire bubbling just below the surface, threatening to overflow. The anticipation was a sweet torment, your body aching for his touch. The fluttering in your stomach intensified, the heat pooling deep within you, urging you to surrender completely.

“Use your words,” he teased, a hint of amusement threading through his tone. “Tell me what you want.”

The challenge in his voice ignited a spark of defiance within you, making you shiver in anticipation. You knew he wanted you to submit, to give in to the pleasure that hung in the air between you like an unbroken promise. It was both thrilling and terrifying, the power dynamic shifting and swirling around you like a tempest.

“Please…” you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper, laced with longing. It felt like an admission of vulnerability, and yet the act of saying it sent a thrill through you, a reminder of the power in your own submission.

“Good girl,” he replied, his voice low and velvety, sending another wave of heat coursing through you. The praise wrapped around you like a warm embrace, reinforcing the tension that filled the room. "Will you behave?"

"Yes sir, please I need it!" You begged.

And with that he lined the tip of his cock with your soaking entrance, slowly pushing against it, filling you up with a shared moan resonating off the walls in the lecture hall. He set a slow pace as he rolled his hips against you, watching you squirm underneath him as you tried to push back against him to quicken the pace.

It wasn't long before Hotch started thrusting into you harder and harder with each move of his hips. His thrusts were painstakingly harsh. You grabbed at the edge of his desk, whimpering with pleasure as jolts of pure bliss overtook you. You felt every part of your body respond to him.

You felt as both of your releases washed over you, the warmth of his cum coating your walls as he filled you up.

As the tension in the air began to dissipate, Professor Hotchner slowly pulled away, his breath still heavy against your skin. The room was filled with the remnants of what had just transpired, an electric pulse lingering between you both. He shifted his weight, allowing you to turn over, your eyes meeting his in the dim light of the office.

Your heart raced, still echoing with the thrill of the moment. There was a vulnerability that hung in the air, and despite the heat of passion, a sense of intimacy enveloped you. You caught your breath, letting the silence settle as you and Hotch shared an unspoken understanding, one that transcended the physicality of what had just happened.

His gaze softened as he brushed a strand of hair away from your face, his fingers lingering against your cheek. “Are you okay?” he asked, his voice low and filled with concern. The authoritative demeanor was replaced by something more tender, a gentleness that surprised you.

You nodded, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m okay,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper as you came to your senses. There was a lingering shyness between you now, a recognition of the boundaries you had crossed together.

His lips curled into a small, affectionate smile, and he leaned in, capturing your lips in a soft kiss that held promise and warmth. It was a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before, but it spoke volumes of the connection you shared.

After pulling away, Professor Hotchner hesitated for a moment, his expression shifting to something more contemplative. “This can’t happen again in class,” he said, his tone serious but softened by the affection that lingered in his eyes. “It’s not professional.”

You could only smile at his earnestness, knowing deep down that this was more than just a fleeting moment. “I know,” you replied, a playful glint in your eyes. “But maybe outside of class…”

His laughter was deep and rich, filling the room with a warmth that made your heart flutter. “Maybe,” he mused, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. “But we’ll have to navigate this carefully.”

You both shared a knowing look, a blend of excitement and uncertainty swirling between you.

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goodomensafterdark · 4 months ago

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4.5k followers?! CALL FOR ARTISTS, WRITERS AND PODFICCERS

Oh my god, we just hit 4,500 people following the account!

(okay, missed it by a few days, we were busy okay)

What are you all doing here and when did that happen?! Well well well…

*adjusts waistcoat*

We have something very special in mind in order to celebrate this milestone: we would like to do a bit of a rebrand of the Tumblr account.

And for this, what better than a little contest?

This will go into three directions :

Artists

We would like to change our pfp ! We of course love @vavoom-sorted-art ‘s, but since this one was put in there, the subreddit changed 20 times! So it is time to do a bit of undusting.

Draw a riveting pfp for the Tumblr account!

Writers

We have been trying to give a good summary of who we are and what the sub and this account are all about, but… we are missing YOUR interpretation!

Write an epic/crack/lewd presentation of our sub!

Make us LAUGH and make us HORNY!

Try to keep the main presentation at a maximum of 500 words.

If you want to write a companion fic that would be longer, go for it, but we need an actual presentation that would be a bit shorter 😉

Podficcers

You heard us, YOU TOO get to participate! We have special plans for those celebrations, you see, and for this, we will need you!

Choose a fic in our collection that is less than 1500 words and podfic it.

You will have 1 month to complete this task, so until the 28th of July!

How will the choices and results be handled

Submissions

Please submit your art, fics and podfics on the Good Omens After Dark file share here.

Folder name should be : GOAD Tumblr Contest

Name your files as follows:

[your tumblr account name]_[pfp/presentation/podfic]_submission

We will not take your submission into account if you don’t follow the GOAD account.

Your productions don't need to stay private: you can absolutely post them and mention us!

If you post ahead of the results announcement:

On Tumblr: use the tag #GOAD 4500 celebrations

On AO3: use the tag GOAD 4500 celebrations and add it to the collection

Results announcement

We know you feral goblins, so we will be planning for 2 weeks to go through the art and writing and podficcing you will have submitted.

Once we are done with it all, we will choose 3 winners:

an artist, whose art will become our new pfp

a writer, whose presentation blurb will be added to our metapost

a podficcer, whose podfic will be added to our metapost as a star example of what this community has to offer.

But for all the others, not to worry: you will of course all be celebrated for the work that you have done during this month, and will get plenty of love from us! <3

TL;DR: Celebration contest! (need to follow us here if you want to compete)

Deadline: 29th of July

Artists: draw a new PFP

Writers: write an epic/crack/lewd presentation of the sub

Podficcers: choose a fic from the collection that is not more than 1500 words long and podfic it

Prize: the winners will be part of our rebranding! The artist's pfp will be our new pfp, the writer's presentation will appear in our metapost, and the podficcer will appear in our metapost.

Good luck to you all!

#good omens after dark #goad #good omens #good omens fanfic #writers of after dark #writers guild presents #good omens fanart #artists of after dark #good omens podfic #podficcers of after dark #Chattering Order of GOAD #GOAD 4500 celebrations

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bee-the-loser-recs · 5 months ago

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~~~~☼ My Woozi One-shot Fic Recs ☼~~~

𖤓 The perks of being that guy By @ncteez 14k, strangers to lovers, sex shop worker Woozi, he has multiple jobs - caterer/mechanic/etc, smut, fluff, really cute relationship build up

𖤓 Beautiful feeling By @viastro 1.4k, soulmate au, bell ring signifies first time meeting soulmate, meet cute, Jihoon is a non-believer at first, fluff, humour

𖤓 Homie train By @bitchlessdino 5.8k, Wonwoo|Woozi|Hoshi x reader, ex boyfriend's friends au, dick of an ex, friends to lovers (kind of), smut, slight fluff, drunk-ish sex

𖤓 Hug By @escapewriter 1.8k, Woozi's birthday, cute celebrations, reader sings to him for the first time, cute, really fluffy

𖤓 Jihoon's puppy By @rubyreduji 11.9k, university au, pining, following around, angst, fluff, attempting to date someone else, teasing, asshole!Woozi, jealousy, side Mingyu x reader, tsundere Woozi

𖤓 What you don't know By @rubyreduji 4.3k, idol Jihoon, graphic designer reader, relationship talks, reader feels a little lonely, communication is key, light angst w/happy ending, established relationship

𖤓 Standing guard [of my heart] and A knight's devotion By @rubyreduji 14k and 2.7k, royalty au, Prince Jihoon, personal guard reader, fluff, initial dislike on Jihoon's side, wounds, fighting, smut in the 2nd part

𖤓 Sunflowers and Snapdragons By @aclowntiny 5.7k, idol Woozi, florist reader, finding excuses to see one another, fluff, really cute, sunshine reader, quiet/sunshine duo

𖤓 Heartstrings By @wavelikewhat 4.5k, producer Woozi & reader, immediate connections, fluff, first meetings, really cute, strangers to lovers, Svt meddling & snooping around

𖤓 Let them see I'm yours By @ksywoo 1.3k, established relationship, jealous Woozi, cute relationship, talking about your partner a lot, fluff, really adorable

𖤓 Never-ending By @bluehoodiewoozi 14k, college au, first relationships, learning to be a better boyfriend, adorable couple, teasing, fluff, cute, friends providing advice

𖤓 My muse By @ch3ol-deactivated20240228 Secret dating trope, idol Woozi, album inspired by their partner, fluff, revealing a relationship, cute, anniversary gift

𖤓 Live By @wondernus 1.2k, idol Woozi, non-idol reader, established relationship, public relationship, going live on weverse, fluff, reading is sleeping in the background

𖤓 A new rhythm By @sluttywoozi 7.8k, Yoongi (Suga) x reader x Woozi (Jihoon), established relationship between Yoongi & reader, bringing in a new person, smut, fluff, trusting partners, inviting Woozi to join them

𖤓 Heartache and a latte By @dkfile 9.3k, college au, slice of life, strangers to lovers, coffee shop au, barista Jihoon, spotify mutuals, falling in love, oblivious reader, blind dates, fluff, meet-cutes, meddling friends

𖤓 No song without you By @hannieehaee 12.6k, idol au, producer Woozi & reader, idol collaboration, fluff, hopelessly in love, smut, pining, kinda emotionally stunted Jihoon

𖤓 Girl code By @beefboyandbabygirl 12k, college au, helping out with a crush, wingmanning a friend, fluff, angst, smut, past hook-ups, pining, bsf Mingyu, friends Red Velvet

𖤓 Don't sweat it By @miraclewoozi 18k, non-idol au, gym crushes on one another, strangers to lovers, kind of idiots to lovers, fluff, smut, light teasing from friends

𖤓 In which love is a loop By @lololololchips SMAU, idol au, secret relationships, DK exposing another relationship, part of a series of one-shots, fluff, Woozi wrote a song about reader

𖤓 Pretty U and Pretty U [2] By @horangboosadan SMAU, canon compliant au, reader is dense, idiots in love, cuties, sending love songs, confession moment, fluff, sequel focuses on their relationship

#bee's recs #bee's navigation #seventeen fic rec #seventeen fic recs #seventeen recs #seventeen x reader #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen fluff #woozi x reader #woozi fluff #woozi smut #jihoon x reader #jihoon fluff #jihoon smut

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howlett-n-morgan · 2 months ago

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Take Me Home

4. John Fucking Marston

Arthur Morgan x Texas Red!Reader

A/n: GUYS I GRADUATED MY FROM MY COURSE! i give you this chapter as a token of my celebration... now I just have to make sure I don't have any models fall off the runway in my line up lmao

Summary: The newest arrival makes his way into camp, and inadvertently becomes the reason that chaos begins to spread. Luckily, his new uncle Arthur is there to carry the woes on his broad shoulders.

Warnings: mild swearing, canon typical violence, birth?? mentions of past death and Arthur remembering his deadbeat dad days. drinking, mild alcohol abuse?? also Hosea is a real one we love Hosea

WC: 4.5k

“Need I remind you of the price you’re gonna pay?” “She’ll be safe with you. The boy, too. I ain’t leavin’ them in incapable hands.” “But you’re leaving them,” Arthur reasoned, trying his best to make any last effort to save what could have been, but he knew his found brother would not be changing his mind. His only thought at this point was to beg him to stay. If only because he was the one who asked. “Don’t do this. They need you, we need you.”

A week after the heist, Arthur’s shoulder was feeling better… but his head was hurting like hell.

In fact, on this specific night, nearly everyone’s head was throbbing on account of the wails and cries of terrible pain coming from the edge of camp.

Abigail had gone into labor around five hours ago, and the little baby had still not come into the world yet. As of right now, the men were huddled close to the fire, passing around a fresh bottle of whiskey in attempts to pass out so they could get some sleep. Meanwhile, the women were rushing to and fro about the camp, working their asses off to bring a new life to the gang.

You figured it would help you bond with the boys more if you sat with them, moaning and groaning about the noise… but you’d much rather be helping, making sure nothing went wrong in the tumultuous process of birth.

It wasn’t until close to one in the morning that a tiny baby boy was born, strong as ever, with lungs so powerful they could blow a lark out of a tree. His cries replaced Abigails, but after all that time, everyone was pleased to know the delivery was over, and both parties were healthy and sound.

The men did eventually pass out, all except two.

Arthur and John were up till the crack of dawn arguing, and it didn’t look good from an outside perspective.

You were about to take back towards your tent when you came across them, hurriedly getting out of their line of sight so you could listen without suspicion. You knew you had no right to eavesdrop, but with everything you’ve heard from Abigail concerning John, you were bursting with curiosity in a way that turned your stomach.

“I don’t see why I need to be convinced otherwise,” John ripped into his dearest friend, and even from behind a wall of tented fabric, you could imagine the look on his face.

“You’re makin’ a mistake right now, and you ain’t gonna see it until it’s too late.”

“How would you know? S’not like you did any better,” the tone of his voice was bitter, almost. John caught himself, taking a step back and breathing more evenly after his fit of anger. “I didn’t mean that, Arthur… but you oughta know where my head’s at.”

Arthur was silent, and you wished more than anything you could see the look on his face to determine how Marston had gotten to him. Was he saddened or angry? Maybe even confused? You didn’t know, but you didn’t have long to dwell on it.

“You listen here, boy,” Arthur’s voice sounded threatening, intimidating. It was perhaps the scariest you’ve heard him speak. “You ain’t got no idea what’s comin’ to you if you leave. There will be no place in hell you’ll be able to hide from the decision you’re about to make. It’ll follow you the rest of your days, and haunt you when you’re dead, you understand me?”

John didn’t speak, didn’t answer or even mumble an excuse, he just walked away. He walked towards Abigail’s tent, ducking his head under and closing the front panel. You stood there stunned, afraid to move… but then Arthur came up around the backside of the area and scared the shit out of you.

“You hear all that?” He asked, a slanted look in his eyes and a distaste for you in his tone. It might be the remnants from his past conversation, but you hate the way it sounds.

“Arthur,” you caught your breath from the fright he gave you just in time to mumble out an apology. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t be listenin’, but Abigail’s been telling me things and I just…”

He managed to huff out one silent breath of a laugh, shaking his head.

“Don’t be fretin’ on my account, I ain’t mad at you.”

You sighed in relief, stepping closer to him now that you didn’t feel so burdened.

“I don’t know him very well, but what I’ve seen… he doesn’t know his head from his ass. Is he really gonna leave?”

“I don’t know,” he started, crossing his arms and letting out a small yawn. He’s just as tired as you are. “I think I just bought a few days, maybe more, but who knows.”

“You think he can change his mind?” You relaxed your demeanor in front of him, but kept your head on a swivel just in case

He was so tired, you felt bad for keeping him awake, but you figured these thoughts were weighing heavy on him, and it might be good to get it off his chest. “He’s far too stubborn to do it on his own. We’d all have to raise hell for him to think badly of his own choices.”

You frowned, turning towards the tent of the new, young family… There were already so many problems in their unit.

“Poor Abigail.”

She’d be alone, and with a child to take care of. And meanwhile John would be scott free and having the time of his life.

“She’ll be alright, her and the boy. I’ll make sure of it,” he nodded towards where you were staring. “Around the time he started acting up, I told her I’d marry her, be the kid’s father if she wanted me to.”

Your head snapped around to him, and you processed his words. Abigail told you about part of his offer, because you’d given her the same one, sans one detail…

“You’re gonna marry her?”

“Only if she wants me to, if John leaves.”

Good to know… but not really. It looks to you like John is pretty set in his ways, even if he ends up staying through the week, or even more.

You nodded to him, but you hated the notion that he could already be promised to another person, even if you had absolutely no plans on pursuing him yourself. It was a small little envious monster that crawled in the pit of your stomach, and for a split second, you felt yourself resenting Abigail, who thus far, had become your closest friend after Arthur.

“I actually offered the same,” you laughed, shaking your head and kicking your boot into the ground. “Not that it would last, but I just wanted her to know I was willing to help.”

“The whole gang chips in here and there, bein’ a family and whatnot… She’ll never go without help,” he assured, his posture becoming heavier with each minute passing.

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat and stretched your arms out, faking a massive yawn that looked real enough to pass you off. “It’s probably time we all turn in, huh?”

For some reason he seemed vaguely sad for the interaction to be over.

“Just about… I’ll catch you later, then,” he waved you off, heading back to his wagon and you to your tent. Even though they were relatively close, the entry points were on opposite sides.

You fell back into your cot with a heavy exhale. It’s been a long night, and with a crying baby in the camp, it’s looking to be a long next few months.

The next few days were wonderful, despite the ill attitudes of a few grumbly men, Arthur not included.

Dutch has been going on and on since the birth of the baby that the newest member should be given a worthy name. You assume he suggested his own namesake a few times, but since he’s been nothing but playful about the whole thing, you know he isn’t too bitter when they do finally settle on a name.

Abigail picked it out, and you understand why.

John Marston Jr, or as the two have taken to calling him already, Jack.

You were surprised to see that waking up in the late afternoon the day of the birth, John was being… really different. He was putting in effort to help Abigail, he was making sure the others knew of all the information as it came, and most importantly, he was being positive about the whole situation. You suppose Arthur did knock some sense into him, and it was evident in how he was carrying himself.

You weren’t sure how long it would last, but you felt relieved. Not only for Abigail, but selfishly, for yourself. If John sticks around and pulls his weight, Arthur doesn’t need to be tied down to a family. Not that he would ever see it that way, but still.

You didn’t know where you stood with Arthur. He was a dear friend, you knew you could say that by now. You think that maybe the playful banter between you holds more than just friendship, but you can’t be sure, and you’re too damn chicken to test the waters. And obviously, a plain and simple conversation is entirely out of the question, because of ridiculous reasons you don’t care to list off.

Maybe you’ll never know, and you’ll always be playing the game of ‘will we, won’t we’, unable to come to a sound conclusion. You think you’d be well enough with that, even if you never settle down with anyone.

It’s a terrible absolute, and you should have never decided on it, but you think that being open ended and in this endless cycle of banter with Arthur is better than being in a committed relationship with anyone else. It makes the one on one interactions with him that much sweeter, though. Like today, when it was both your turns to watch baby Jack. The others were working on something in the town, and Abigail and some of the women were napping, having taken care of him through the night.

“He might be hungry,” you suggested, laughing at Arthur’s attempt to sooth the wailing infant.

“I get hungry too, y’never see me cryin’ about it,” he was joking, clearly. He shook his head and reached for the glass bottle Miss Grimshaw had prepared this morning.

Jack fed on the bottle and stopped crying, and in the aftermath, you paused to watch the scene before you. A big, gruff outlaw, with his hair tousled and shirt out of place from tiny hands fisting at it, and relaxed in his arms, a tiny baby being bottle fed. It was such a contradictory picture, but one you couldn’t tear your eyes away from.

“Cute,” you mumbled, nearly under your breath, but he heard you.

“He’s somethin’,” he chuckled, a small smile on his face when mentioning the boy he held so close. Arthur was many things, but amongst them was gentle. He was a kind creature by nature, that had only been hardened by experience, and these soft moments let his internal goodness show.

“I meant you,” you teased, and he rolled his eyes, shaking his head. He didn’t even know how to respond for a second.

“I’m quite the opposite, but I’ll thank you for the thought.”

As tough as he was, and as rightfully boastful over his skill with a weapon or with his bare hands, he seemed to negate himself often. His intelligence, his artistic talent, his looks, even his presence during group gatherings. It saddened you, and you didn’t even know the root of his struggle.

“Why you always doin’ that?”

“Doin’ what?” he asked, his head tilted to the side and a narrow look on his face.

“Bein’ mean to yourself…” you answered, sitting down on the other end of the log he was relaxing against.

What a treat it would be for Arthur to see himself through your eyes. He’d never think poorly of himself again.

“M’not, just the truth.”

And that was even sadder. Who on earth ever convinced this man that he wasn’t good enough? Whoever it was, you’d like them to be on the other side of your pistol’s barrel.

You huffed out a sigh, leaning forward so he didn’t have to strain his neck to look back at you.

“Y’know it’s too damn bad, I happen to think you’re a pretty decent person. I pity anyone who thinks otherwise,” you spoke firmly, laying it on thick so that maybe he can come to terms with believing you.

“Is that so?”

“Mhm, very much so…”

He looked back down at Jack, trying to distract himself from your complimentary onslaught. He didn’t much care for compliments, so he wasn’t even sure how to receive them, if he accepted them at all. He has a very strong belief system, and it’s constantly just a mantra of things like ‘I am a bad man, I do bad things, I am dangerous, I am getting old, I am ugly,’ and so on. He didn’t understand how much he had hurt himself by forming those beliefs in the first place.

You sat with him in silence for a few minutes, just watching Jack finish the bottle and settle into Arthur’s arm for a nap. He slept a lot for someone that cries through the night. Hearing the soft cries in the night isn’t peaceful, but it’s better than the anxiety and feeling of dread his cries brought you the first day, when John was set on leaving.

You keep replaying a moment from that morning in your head, when the sun was just over the ridge, and you were heading to your tent…

“Arthur?”

“Yeah?” He turned his head again.

“The day he was born… that argument between you and John,” you wanted to make sure you phrased this correctly, unsure if it was a sensitive topic. “He’d apologized for sayin’ something… Sayin’ that you didn’t do any better? What was he talkin’ about?”

Arthur took a deep inhale and shifted around in his seat, the ground beneath him feeling like it could cave in just at your words. John had struck deep with what he’d said, but having to rehash it, and with you… it wasn’t a thing he’d ever do for fun, to put it nicely.

“I mean, him talkin’ about leaving Abigail, and you givin’ her your offer… You’re already better than he is.”

“I wasn’t always,” he shook his head. “Holdin’ him like this, it makes me remember just how terrible I am.”

You sank down from the log and scooted closer to him. No one in camp was around to see, so you didn’t bother looking. His eyes got foggy without even going into detail, so you didn’t push… but he seemed to open up on his own.

“I had a boy when I was John’s age. Same situation n’ all,” he shook his head, trying to keep his sights on the ground in front of him. The longer he held Jack, the worse this feeling got, but he knew it wouldn’t ever go away, not really. Not with a new and constant reminder of his past. “His momma and I, we didn’t get on too well, so I kept with the gang. Didn’t ever come around except when we passed through that town. Could count on two hands the times I saw my own son…”

You didn’t know what to make of this. He has a son? Does he keep contact with him? You’re unsure if you want to know all the details, because hearing it as is, sounds messy.

“Where does he live?”

You had no idea that you’d just asked the worst question in response… but how else were you supposed to know? This was the first you’d heard of Arthur’s son.

“He uh… he died, about three years ago,” Arthur shook his head, swallowing back the lump in his throat, though his teary eyes persisted. “They both did... I came back one day, and found two crosses in the yard. I asked around, townsfolk said a group of robbers came through and raided several homes.”

“Arthur…” you grabbed his arm gently, trying to convey your sympathy, and your sadness.

“I knew it had been my fault. If I had been there, my son would be alive, his mother, too.”

A cloud had rolled over the sun, and shrouded in a temporary shade of darkened light, the mood felt heavier than even his words could convey. This man and his layers, being peeled away before you… it was both touching, and terrible. You had no idea a man was capable of feeling so deeply, of being so open about his past and regrets. You’d never seen a man cry before.

“Issac and Eliza were their names,” he finally looked at you, tears escaping his eyes at a rapid pace. He let them fall, somehow knowing you wouldn’t judge him for it. “And they aren’t here because of me.”

You gently raised a hand and wiped his cheeks with your thumb, leaving your hand there for as long as he would let you.

“I’m so sorry, Arthur…”

Nothing you could say or do would help to heal his wounds, but you wanted to try. Wanted to be there for him, whatever that meant. You and him got on well. You were friends, but there was competition between you, all a part of your banter. You supposed you’d feel inclined to let him win in any circumstance from now on, just because you couldn’t bear to make him upset. Seeing him this way broke your heart, but it also empowered you in some way. To be more empathetic, and kind, and to not let your anger get the better of you. You’ve proven to him in the past that you were a hot head, no pun intended. You would have to be mindful of letting yourself fly off the hinge to him in the future.

“Even if John doesn’t leave… I swear I’m gonna do right by this boy,” he let out, his voice trembling but his words were of certainty.

You felt a tear roll down your own cheek, and did nothing to stop it. This moment, whatever it was, you wanted to feel it. Wanted to keep it buried within the depths of your soul.

You’ve been on the run for four years now, and in those four years, you’ve been on your own, making some sort of fantasy world for yourself where death was just the thing at the end of a duel, and you never had to pay the toll of those losses.

You’d not been living in reality, and coming to this gang, meeting Arthur… it must have been preordained. It must have been fate. He himself, day by day, was restoring your humanity, and your ability to feel something that wasn’t just a farce.

“Thank you for telling me,” you whispered, but being so close, he heard you clearly.

He let out a huff that you suppose was meant to be a soft laugh. “You don’t just hear me, Red… you listen to me. I guess I’ll keep on tellin’ you things.”

And soon both your attentions were pulled back to Jack as he stirred slightly.

You took a turn holding him while Arthur went to grab some food, and you found you rather liked this particular baby. He was a sweet little thing, not so bratty like the tiny cousins you grew up around. You can only hope he’ll stay this sweet as he grows older.

A month had passed, and John was getting more angsty.

Arthur was honestly surprised he had lasted this long. It seemed impossible that he stuck around, especially when he had to be the one to take a turn with the baby during the night.

Fights had broken out with various members of the camp, mostly over John and his unwillingness to help anymore. Dutch had chewed him up and spit him out, and after that, John had made up his mind, for certain this time.

“You ain’t leavin’, just sit down,” Arthur pulled him back by the shoulder, trying to stop him from packing up and saddling his horse.

“What makes you think I would stay with a bunch of folk who hate me?”

“We don’t hate you, you’re bein’ ridiculous. Sit down, we’ll talk about it.” Arthur tried to reach out for him again, but John pulled himself back and out of the way, two steps from the hitching post. “Boy, you’re not goin’ anywhere-”

“I’m leaving!” John burst out, taking Arthur by surprise. This wasn’t just another hissy fit or tantrum where he would eventually let it stew over. He was really gonna do it. “The kid ain’t mine, I counted back. She’s just try’na tie me down, Arthur... I feel for her, but I ain’t stayin.”

“Need I remind you of the price you’re gonna pay?”

“She’ll be safe with you. The boy, too. I ain’t leavin’ them in incapable hands.”

“But you’re leaving them,” Arthur reasoned, trying his best to make any last effort to save what could have been, but he knew his found brother would not be changing his mind. His only thought at this point was to beg him to stay. If only because he asked. “Don’t do this. They need you, we need you.”

“You don’t need me, Arthur. You’re the better one, always were…”

“C’mon now, you know that ain’t true. S’just another excuse,” he waved his arms around, trying to emphasize just how stupid it sounded. Yes, it’s all Arthur’s fault that John is leaving.

John doesn’t even answer Arthur, he just turns heel and readies his horse, all while the older of the two stands by and ridicules him for what he’s about to do. All John can do is tune him out, and pretend he doesn’t hear the distant crying at the other edge of camp, where Susan is trying to console a tired and emotionally devastated Abigail. Their son sleeps in Tilly’s arms, oblivious to anything happening around him, but what’s to come will put a damper on his previously bright future.

By the time John is on his horse, loaded up and ready to head out, Arthur grabs hold of his leg, yanking it back from the stirrup. He looks to his eyes one more time, to see if there’s any guilt, any resolve, anything that might show he knows what he’s doing is wrong… but he only sees annoyance and pride. Two things John Marston usually wore on his face.

“If you leave this camp, you best never come back again, ya hear?”

And for the first time that night, Arthur saw just a shred of fear in the younger man’s eyes.

“I hear,” he nodded, the fear turning into sadness in this last moment. “It just ain’t worth it no more.”

And with that, he turned his horse, and left the camp.

Arthur went storming through the camp after the interaction, needing to find himself a drink.

You were angry and rightfully so, stomping back into camp like a bear hunting its prey. Walking up to the campfire, there were only a few left awake. Pearson and Hosea sat, hunched over and with half full whiskey bottles in their hands. Probably from the stolen stash, the brand was decent.

“Anyone seen Arthur?” You asked them both, knowing that at least Hosea could tell you.

“He passed out ages ago,” He nodded towards his covered wagon near the trees and rocks separating your space. “John left camp tonight.”

“I know, I caught him outside the saloon,” you sat down by them, reaching out for either bottle they were willing to hand over. “Gimme some of that, will ya?”

And of course, drinking was the solution at the end of the day.

After a while, Pearson dragged himself to bed, leaving you and Hosea to sit and stew by the fire, milling about your tumultuous thoughts. You should have known he’d ask for details of your run in with John.

“I was out scouting today… realized I needed to go to town for a pair of socks, mine got holes too big for sewin’,” you began, gaze trapped on the fire, the alcohol making it harder to focus on anything else at once. “Came outside and found him hitchin’ his horse.”

“You were the one who approached him, then?”

“I thought about just wavin’, I thought I’d be seein’ him back here… but then I looked at his saddle. He was packed up for the trek of a million miles,” you sighed, taking another big swig of the pricey whiskey in your hand. You would finish the bottle in no time if you kept up like this, trying to quench your raging thirst for something strong and potent.

“What did you say to him?”

“Nothing really, not at first. Just asked how the day had been, how Abigail was. I haven’t been here since this morning. I guess they started fighting real bad after I left. Dutch tore into him, too,” you spoke heavily, suddenly the swigs you were slamming back were making you a bit less understandable. Hosea though, was easily able to listen, because after years of Arthur’s drunk slurring, and having to make out sentences between, he was practically an expert. “All I said was that he shouldn’t leave, because he’ll regret it.”

“And I suppose that didn’t help.”

“Nah, he just told me where to shove it. I think he’s scared… not of the kid, and not of Abigail. I think he doesn’t wanna end up like his father. Arthur’s told me something about it, but in my opinion, he’s trying to get out before the resentment turns to abuse n’ all that.”

“I reckon you're right. We all told him time and again he’d be a good father, but he’s stubborn as they come, and when his mind’s made up… there’s no stopping that boy.” Hosea shook his head once more, his sadness reflecting in the light of the fire.

“I guess Arthur’s gonna marry Abigail, now…” you knew you were just trailing into your thoughts, and that while getting more drunk, you shouldn’t be saying them out loud… but you couldn’t help it. Selfishly, on your ride back to camp, this is all you thought about.

“He offered, it’s up to Abigail to accept,” he said gently, raising his brows in thought as well. He doesn’t see it as a good match, but he thinks it’s honorable that Arthur would do such a thing.

“I hope she doesn’t,” you murmured quietly, but it seems he still heard you.

“What was that?”

“Nothing, m’just gettin’ drunk.”

He chuckled under his breath, his side eye remaining on your features just a while longer before he stood up, patting you on the shoulder.

“Don’t drink too much more. You’ll pass out before making the trip to your tent.”

And then he left you alone. With your thoughts and a bottle of whiskey in hand, who knows what more you could do in a situation like this. It was better to cut your losses and just turn in… so you did.

Laying down on your cot, you expected sleep to take you. It should have, given how tired you were, but the single notion kept echoing in your head over and over…

Arthur Morgan isn’t mine, and he never was.

Tags: @photo1030 @sheepdogchick @snoopysshark @strvberrydoll @yyiikes @phantasyy @puffyhairedhipster @scorpio-echo

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan x reader #rdr2 #red dead fandom #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x original female character #arthur morgan x you #texas red

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hungermakesmonsters · 6 months ago

Text

(Once Bitten) Twice Shy

Chapter Seven

Plot summary : Desperate to get away from your controlling family, you take a job in New York as a wealthy vampire's blood source. A million dollars awaits if you can make it through a year, but life with Billy Russo is not going to be as simple as you think.

Pairing : Billy Russo x Reader

Story Rating : R Chapter Rating : R

Warnings : [This is a fic for 18+ only, minors DNI] Smutty behaviour, some of it gets a little rough. Some mention of an emotionally abusive parent, and readers problematic views of her own autonomy. All chapters will contain mentions of blood. Please check the warnings on each chapter if you choose to follow this story.

Word Count : 4.5k

A/N : I think I've finally sorted the tagging issue.

MASTER LIST

Chapter Seven

“Are you alright?” Karen asked, pulling your attention from your pancakes. “You’ve been really quiet.”

Your cheeks warmed and you immediately felt bad; she’d shown up early to go to breakfast with you before taking you to the Met, and all you’d been able to think about was the Homeland agent who’d approached you the night before.

“I’m fine,” you answered, forcing a smile. “Just tired. We were out late last night.”

“Billy took you out?” She seemed surprised.

“He took me dress shopping,” you explained, reaching for your coffee. “He’s throwing a party next month and he wanted me to have a new dress.”

“Oh, his Vampire Night party,” Karen nodded and you shot her a confused look. “He does it every year, it’s to celebrate the anniversary vampire’s being accepted into society. It’s supposed to be a big deal but, for Billy, it’s just an excuse to throw a crazy party every year.”

“Does he normally invite the person who’s...” you struggled for a moment, not wanting to out-and-out state what you did in the busy little diner, “working for him when he throws parties?”

“Usually - I mean, it’d be pretty shitty to throw a party in the penthouse and not invite the other person living there.”

“So, the others, they all went to his parties and they enjoyed themselves?”

“Yeah, if there’s one thing Billy knows, it’s how to throw a good party,” she answered, fixing you with a look, as if she could sense there was more you wanted to ask. “Why the sudden interest?��

“I don’t know,” you shrugged, trying to pretend it wasn’t a big deal. “It just seemed like such an easy job and, I guess, I just don’t understand why anyone would do anything to ruin it for themselves. Do you know what happened to them once they left?”

You needed something, some sort of sign, to tell you that you weren’t wrong, that you were safe with Billy. And, if you weren’t...

Well, in that case, you needed to find a way out that didn’t involve going home with your tail between your legs.

“As far as I know, they all went back to their lives. Though there was one...” Karen trailed off, the thought alone making her wince. You shot her a questioning look, silently begging her to continue. “Not the last one, but the one before, she had to be removed by building security. She tried to come back a couple of times but she eventually got the hint.”

The one before the last one - so, one of the last three, one of the ones Madani thought was dead. She’d been fine when she left and she’d been seen a couple of times since. So, that meant that Homeland was wrong about Billy, right?

With your mind set at ease, you happily finished breakfast and, before you knew it, you and Karen were stepping into the Met. You felt like a kid at Christmas. It was everything you’d imagined and more. Karen could barely hold back her amusement as you moved from exhibit to exhibit, never seeming to lose any of your initial excitement. It was something you’d always wanted to do, filled with things you’d always wanted to see.

By lunch time, poor Karen needed to sit down, and you needed a coffee so you ended up in the cafe. When Karen headed to the bathroom, you looked over the map, making a mental note of what you’ve seen and what you still wanted to see. Distracted, you didn’t notice the figure beside you until she’d taken a seat. The Homeland agent, Madani.

“Are you following me?” You demanded, keeping your voice low.

“I’m trying to keep you safe,” Madani answered, ignoring your sharp tone. “Have you thought any more about what we discussed last night?”

“Look, I don’t know what you think you know, but I’m pretty sure Billy hasn’t done anything wrong.”

She fumbled with her pocket, quickly pulling out her phone and showing it to you. “These are the three missing women; Layla El-Faouly, Krista Dumont and Mary Poots.” With each name she moved to a different photo, letting you see each of the missing women. “Has he mentioned any of those names?”

“No.”

“Are you sure? Have you seen anything in his penthouse that might belong to them?” You shook your head, quickly feeling overwhelmed by all of the questions.

“No, and anyway, you said the last three women, right?” You asked and Madani nodded. “People have seen one of them since. She even got thrown out of Billy's building a couple of times.”

“You're sure of that?”

“Yes,” frustration slipping into your tone. “Whatever you're looking for, it's not -”

“Has Russo done anything to hurt you? Is he forcing you into a sexual relationship or have you felt like you’re being controlled?”

“What? No.”

“You might not even realise that he’s doing it. Some vampires are very good at controlling their victims, Russo is -”

“He’s not controlling me,” you told her as firmly as you could, glancing around, hoping to spot Karen. “Can you please leave me alone? I don’t want to lose my job because of this.”

“I can protect you -”

“I don’t need protection, I need this job,” you told her. “Please, I wasn’t kidnapped, he hasn’t hurt me, and I know he hasn’t hurt anyone else. Can you please just leave me alone before you cause any trouble?”

“Okay, I’ll go,” Madani relented, “but I’ll be close by if you need me.”

You muttered that you wouldn’t as she stood and left, just in time for Karen to return.

“Who was that?”

“She was asking me for directions,” you lied, as you stood, not wanting to think about anything Madani had said to you.

It was all crazy, ridiculous. You weren’t being coerced or controlled and you still didn’t believe Billy was capable of hurting anyone. Fortunately, there were plenty of exhibits left to distract you for the rest of the day.

By the time you returned to the penthouse it was getting late. You rushed to draw blood and to throw some pasta onto the stove. When you were done, you found Billy on the sofa, his eyes fixed on the view of the city until he heard you approach.

He smiled and you felt butterflies, and there was a spring in your step as you made your way to the kitchen to grab a glass for his blood before joining him on the sofa.

“You look nice.” His eyes trailing down your body.

“Oh,” you looked down at yourself and the skirt-blouse combination, “Karen took me to the Met. We got back late. I haven’t had time to change yet.”

“I’m glad,” Billy said, taking the glass from your hand, “I love your legs.”

Your cheeks warmed and you bit your lip. As much as Billy liked to pay you compliments, you still weren’t used to it. Honestly, you weren’t sure you’d ever get used to it, especially when Billy managed to make every compliment sound simultaneously sweet and filthy.

“I got you something,” he said a moment later, motioning to a large paper bag on the floor in front of him. Cautiously, you pulled it towards you and pulled out a large yellow, faux-fur blanket. “You can leave it out here for when we watch TV together.”

Butterflies filled your stomach at the gesture, but there was one thought you couldn’t quite shake; “it’s yellow.”

And yellow didn’t exactly match the dark and minimalist decor in the penthouse.

“It made me think of you when I saw it,” Billy shrugged.

The butterflies in your stomach seemed to multiply; it was a warm and happy colour, it was the colour of sunlight, and it had made Billy think of you.

Hugging the blanket to your chest you thanked him before carefully placing it back in the bag.

“I’ve got some time before I need to leave for work, if you want to hang out?” He asked as if he needed to, as if he thought there was any chance that you wouldn’t want to stay there with him.

As he drank, you told him about your day and every little thing you’d seen in the Met. And he listened. It seemed like he was actually listening, hanging on your every word, like he cared, like he wasn’t just indulging you and letting you run your mouth.

“Maybe next time I could take you?” He offered. “They do night openings a few times a month.”

“I’d love that,” you answered without a moment's hesitation.

“Really?”

“Of course. I like spending time with you.”

He finished his drink and quickly put the glass down, licking his lips as he turned himself towards you.

“You like spending time with me?” He repeated.

You couldn’t tell if he was amused or confused. “Yeah, you’re... different to the sort of people I’m used to being around. I like talking to you.”

“Just talking to me?” He asked, a smirk starting to tug at his lips. You felt your face start to heat again as your gaze dropped to your lap. “Still so shy, so easy to embarrass,” he muttered, placing a hand on your bare knee, “but I bet you’re already wet under this little skirt.”

Your breath caught and your thighs clenched together at the realisation that he was right.

You couldn’t bring yourself to look until you realised he was moving. You watched, confused as he slipped onto the floor, his hands on your knees, urging your legs apart so he could sit between them. It wasn’t until he started to slowly kiss your thigh that you realised what he was going to do. Your heart started to race, and Billy noticed.

“Are you okay?” He asked, his cold fingers tracing soothing patterns on your leg.

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, cheeks burning with embarrassment. “I’ve just... I’ve never...”

“It’s okay, hummingbird,” Billy reassured you, smiling softly. “Just relax and let me make you feel good.”

While you managed not to show it, those words almost broke you. He always seemed to care about you, about making sure you felt good, and that wasn’t something you were ever sure you’d get used to.

Your cheeks burned hotter when he reached beneath your skirt and eased your panties down your legs, discarding them somewhere on the floor. But you didn’t have time to dwell on it. He pulled you towards him, lifting your legs over his shoulder while continuing to trail kisses up your thighs. Up and up and up, until -

“Remember the rules,” he told you, gazing up at you from between your thighs, “and breathe.”

Until he mentioned it, you hadn’t even realised that you were holding your breath. With a nod, you let out a slow breath, trying to steel yourself for this new experience. His cold fingers gently parted your folds and a shiver ran down your spine. You bit your lip, keeping your eyes focused on him until you finally felt it. His tongue slipped through your arousal, delicately at first and then with a little more pressure. You back arched and your hips pressed forwards, and you could have swore you felt Billy’s lips pull into a smirk against you.

He alternated between long, slow laps of his tongue and faster flicks, obviously taking note of your reactions. One moment he was focused on your clit, the next, you felt the tip of his tongue against your entrance. Your body shuddered, completely overwhelmed, and you almost lost your mind when you heard Billy groan.

“Billy -” you gasped, knowing that you weren’t going to last long.

“Not yet,” he almost-growled from between your thighs.

Before you could even think to beg, his tongue was against you again. Your fingers slipped into his hair, needing something to hold on to as your thighs started to tremble. It felt like you were being devoured by his mouth, his lips and his greedy tongue making you feel sensations you’d never felt before. Soon enough, it felt like his grip on your thighs was the only thing keeping you from crushing his head - it was too much and not enough all at once, you desperately wanted the release of an orgasm but you didn’t ever want him to stop.

“Fuck-fuck-fuck...” you whimpered, barely holding back. “Billy, please...”

It almost seemed cruel when you felt his lips on your throbbing clit, gently sucking. Your back arched again, trying to press yourself closer but his strong grip kept you in place.

Your fingers tugged on his hair, twisting and pulling, earning another groan from Billy. Every muscle tensed and you felt like a spring coiled too tight, like you could snap at any moment. And, thankfully, Billy seemed to realise that.

“Okay, hummingbird, you can come,” he muttered, barely pulling his lips away from you.

One more flick of his tongue and you were done for, crying out as you came undone. All the while his tongue kept moving, lapping the wetness that spilled from you, and not pulling back until your thighs were violently shaking.

While you struggled to catch your breath, Billy lowered your legs and rested his chin on your thigh, grinning up at you.

“What are you smirking at?” You managed to ask, fighting back a smile of your own.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before.”

You bit your lip, your cheeks starting to warm again. “I think the situation called for it.”

That got a laugh from Billy.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said before getting himself off the floor and sitting beside you again. “Did you enjoy it?”

Of course, you couldn’t answer. Once he’d asked the question you couldn’t even look at him. All you could do was give the slightest little nod, suddenly acutely aware that your panties had ended up on the floor in front of the TV and, as much as you wanted to, you couldn’t tear your eyes from them.

That is, until Billy placed a hand on your cheek, turning your face to his. For a few seconds he simply looked at you, almost seeming confused, before smiling again.

“What is it about you?” He asked quietly, his thumb softly caressing your cheek. “Why can’t I get enough?”

Before you could answer, he’d closed the distance between you, kissing you and sending you into a tailspin. How could he keep saying things like that, how could he keep making you feel so special, when he seemed so reluctant to - god, you didn’t even know. You still didn’t understand how this casual thing was supposed to work. The time you spent together left you feeling like there was something, a connection between you, but that wasn’t what you’d agreed to. It was just supposed to be fun.

But, surely casual fun was supposed to lead to sex, right?

“That’s not what I want to see when I kiss you,” he remarked, pulling back a little, leaving you even more confused until he clarified; “you’re frowning.”

“I was just...” you fell into silence for a moment, not sure how to say it. “Do you want me, Billy?”

“Do I want you?” He repeated.

“Yeah, I mean like -”

“Oh, hummingbird, I know exactly what you mean,” he almost laughed, his hand still on your cheek. “I’m just not sure how you can ask me that after I’ve just been on my knees worshipping you.”

Not knowing how to respond to that, you kissed him, tasting the lingering traces of your arousal on his lips and tongue. You pressed closer and closer, until you felt an arm around your waist, pulling you onto his lap.

“I don’t want to rush you,” he muttered against your lips.

“You’re not,” you answered breathlessly, sinking back into his lips..

He pulled you closer, positioning you so you could feel the bulge of his erection against you. The feeling alone was enough to cause your hips to shudder and buck, still feeling sensitive from his tongue. Billy groaned, his lips pulling from yours and finding your neck. You barely noticed the buttons of your blouse being undone until he started to push it off your shoulders.

Trembling fingers started to pull open his shirt, hands exploring every inch of cold skin that you revealed, feeling the raised lines of scars beneath your touch. Billy squirmed when your hand trailed over his shoulder, his body pressing up against yours.

Your heart raced faster when you felt him unclasp your bra. You barely had time to finish removing it before his lips were on your breasts, kissing, licking and sucking. Every cold touch sent a jolt of pleasure right to your core and, before you knew it, you were gently rocking your hips against him.

“Billy,” you gasped as his lips closed over your nipple.

Desperately, you dropped your hands to his waist, fumbling with his belt then, when that was open you started on the fastenings of his pants.

A yelp escaped you when you felt his teeth on your nipple, not biting hard enough to break skin but more than enough to give you a shock. An eager growl sounded in the back of his throat as he moved to your other nipple. But his sudden roughness wasn’t enough to stop you.

Despite his cold touch roaming your body, you felt hot, like you were on fire. Every deep breath you took was him; his cologne, his clean shirt, the products in his hair. You were intoxicated, drunk on Billy Russo. His fingertips pressed into your hips with a bruising force, but all you cared about was getting his zipper down and letting him possess you completely.

“My little hummingbird,” he muttered in that low, dangerous tone as his lips moved back to yours. “I’m going to ruin you.”

He kissed you again, groaning into your mouth with an unbridled want that seemed to match your own. The words didn’t shock you like they perhaps should have, they didn’t worry you at all. You trusted him to stay in control.

Clumsy fingers tugged at his zipper and -

“Shit!” You yelped as the zipper nicked your skin, pulling back from him, lifting your finger to your lips.

Billy’s whole body went rigid beneath you, eyes narrowing, dropping to the finger between your lips.

“It’s alright, I just -” you started and stopped just as quickly, looking at the small bleeding cut before looking at Billy.

His eyes seemed to get darker and you watched his throat bob uncomfortable as he tried to swallow. You squirmed as his grip tightened on your hips, holding you in place. The tiny cut bleeding in a way that only tiny cuts could.

“Billy...” you muttered softly, trying to soothe the monster inside of him.

Gingerly, you reached for him, tenderly running your fingers through his hair while you returned your bleeding finger to your mouth, trying to remove temptation.

His jaw tensed before he lunged forwards, pressing his lips to yours, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth, desperately seeking your finger and the tiniest drop of blood. You tried to push his face away, your hand on his jaw, your finger ending up between his lips.

“Billy, stop,” you pleaded, “please.”

Suddenly you found yourself hitting the floor as he stood and moved away from you. It took you a second or so to get over the initial shock before you grabbed your blouse and covered yourself. By the time you got to your feet, Billy was halfway to the elevator, buttoning his shirt as he went.

“I’m sorry.” The words left you in a desperate and broken tone, not knowing what you could possibly say to fix the situation or stop him from leaving.

Billy froze, taking an uncomfortable breath before turning back to you, confusion written all over his face. His eyes moved from you to the elevator and back again, weighing his options.

“Why are you sorry?” He asked, a crack in his voice that made your heart ache. “You did nothing wrong.”

“I was clumsy, and I pushed you, and I -” you sniffled, blinking as your eyes threatened tears.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he told you, voice firm and certain, “that’s not what happened.”

“Then why are you leaving me?”

Billy was at a loss, staring as you tried not to break down in front of him. Your mind was racing over everything that had happened, over everything that you had done wrong - all the things that Billy seemed to want to ignore. You’d always been clumsy, never careful enough. Your mother had always chastised you, telling you that you only did it for attention, telling you that you were needy, criticising you for always wanting to be the centre of attention.

It was easy to spiral into those negative thoughts, to see all your faults and failings, to feel broken and unloveable.

He stepped towards you, confusion softening into something more like concern.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he repeated, “I did. I almost lost control, I could’ve -”

“I shouldn’t’ve complained, I -”

“Don’t say that,” he snapped, his tone sharp enough to jolt you from your self-loathing. “I told you that you always have a choice here. Always. No one gets to hurt you, and you never have to go along with anything that scares you or makes you uncomfortable. Do you understand?”

On some level you did, you understood completely, you knew that he was right, but years of being made to feel like you were the problem were hard to overcome.

Reluctantly, he closed the distance between you, his hand finding your cheek, urging you to look at him.

“How you feel matters, hummingbird. What you want matters,” he told you. “I don’t want to scare you. It’s me, I - there’s something wrong with me, something I can’t always control, and you deserve better than that. I don’t want to do anything that you’re not a hundred percent certain about. I never want you to regret anything that we do together.”

It felt like your throat was closing up and your vision started to blur, it wasn’t until the first sob shook your body that you realised you were crying. The idea that you had a choice, that you got to decide what you wanted, and that your feelings mattered - no one had let you have that before. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you tight against his chest.

“No one gets to hurt you,” he told you again. “I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

Even from himself, though the words went unsaid.

He shushed you as you whimpered the word sorry again and held you tighter when you hid your face against his shoulder. Minutes passed, and Billy held you, not moving, not pulling away. Eventually you stilled, your breathing slowing and the sobs subsiding. But, still, Billy didn’t move. His hold on you didn’t loosen until you slowly pulled back.

Your head instantly dropped, the back of your hand trying to scrub the tear stains from your cheeks. One of his hands remained on you, resting gently on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you muttered.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I don’t know,” you finally admitted.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Do you?”

The question hung awkwardly in the air between you, neither one of you wanting to answer it. It was more than obvious now that you both had baggage, you both had parts of yourself that you were desperate to keep hidden, but it was also becoming clear that you weren’t going to be able to hide forever.

“I think we’ll have to eventually,” Billy told you.

As much as you hated it, you knew he was right.

Silence lingered for a few seconds before you quietly confessed; “I feel safe with you.”

It felt important to tell him that, like everything else could come after. Despite his little lapses in control, you trusted him. He looked like he wanted to ask how you could feel that way after everything but, at the same time, it was clear that he didn’t want to know.

“Are you... okay?” You asked after a moment of silence.

“It’s complicated,” he said and, for a second, it seemed like he was going to leave it at that. “I just - when you’re a vampire, everything is so loud. Everything feels like it’s too much. It makes you want so much. Sometimes I feel like I can’t control it.”

You stomach knotted as you watched him struggle, the jagged edge to his tone furthering something he’d already let slip days ago; he didn’t want to be like that. He didn’t want to be a vampire.

“I feel like that too, sometimes,” you offered softly. “Not exactly the same but - my mom always used to tell me that no one likes emotional women. Whenever I’d get upset, she’d tell me I was being hysterical or call me an attention seeker. So I started holding it all in. I wouldn’t complain or get upset, I’d just pretend I was fine, and it made me feel like I was going to burst...”

Without warning, he pulled you into another hug, and you let him, your face pressing back into the damp spot you’d left on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, sounding almost guilty, like he thought he was somehow to blame. “You don’t have to hold it in with me, you don’t have to pretend or go along with anything that you don’t want.”

“I do want this though,” you confessed, stopping short of telling Billy that you wanted him, that you were starting to feel something for him. It had only been a few weeks but, already, you felt a connection to him, something you didn’t want to give up.

He seemed torn, almost like he wanted to cut his losses and end things now, and you weren’t sure how you were going to make it through the rest of the year if you had to go back to how things had been at the start. That is, if he even wanted to keep you around. Technically, because of him, you’d broken your contract.

“You need to promise me something; if you’re ever not comfortable, you’ll tell me to stop, and if I ever scare you, you’ll tell me,” he told you in a firm and uncompromising tone.

“I promise, but -” you hesitated, not sure if he’d appreciate your condition, “- but you have to tell me when you’re not feeling well.”

Billy nodded and you sank forward into his arms again, holding him tight for a little while longer until he finally had to get ready and leave for work. And, of course, you felt terrible that he had to go and change out of his crease, tear-stained shirt before he went. He left with the promise of spending time with you tomorrow.

CHAPTER EIGHT

End Note : The Marvel name drops are mostly just easter eggs (and because I HATE coming up with names for side characters. I feel like a lot went on in this chapter but I don't actually have a lot to say about it. I'm just slowly piling on the mystery and angst.

Anyway! Thanks for reading! I've really loved all your comments and questions on this series. Have a great weekend!!

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in future chapters! If tagging doesn't work for some reason (aka Tumblr being dumb) I post most Fridays around 7:30 gmt. (I think I've found a way to get tagging to work properly again, please let me know if it doesn't tag you.)

Tag List : @vaguekayla @thdcre @rensolodriver @house-husband-of-castlemurdock

@snowkestrel @danzer8705 @noortsshift @aoi-targaryen @lincerad

@vxnity713 @readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure @dreadfulxives18 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @glamourbabe17

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@rosey1981 @benbarnesprettygurl @rachlovesactors @robertthehoover @ladyblacky

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader #billy russo fanfic #the punisher #(ob)ts ff #billy russo imagine

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cocoreallylovesraiden · 3 months ago

Text

jian dui (煎堆)

(smoke) tomas vrbada x chef!reader

this is a longer more in-depth fic, completely self indulgent (no one is surprised) this is for all the overthinking thought daughters out there!

mentions of overwork and stress; comfort and fluff fic

4.5k

12 o’clock, midnight. You fight to keep your eyelids open, your grasp on the ratty broom constantly slipping like your will to continue sweeping the floor. There had been some form of celebration in the dinner rush, one of the village elder’s ninetieth birthday if you recall correctly- you could only tell because of the long-life noodle soup and fish orders that piled in your kitchen.

That and the sound of vivacious chatter that rang damp and faded by the time it reached the kitchen, muffled out by the popping of hot oils and staticky songs that eked out your handheld radio. But the service floor was dim and empty now, the lingering smell of leeks and alcohol the only reminder of the hectic rush hours ago.

Seeing as the teahouse had officially closed hours ago, Madam Bo and the servers left long ago- the former only leaving after promises that you wouldn’t stay up too late and would lock everything up properly. Now, you had regretted not letting her stay, the silence and darkness culminating in a rather lethargic and lonely feeling.

Deeming the floor clean of scraps, you set the broom and dustpan to the side and sit yourself down at a large, round table. The exhaustion of working a full day seemed to hit you all at once the moment you hit the chair, a strained sigh leaving your lips. The soft sound echoed throughout the airy building, sending chills down your spine.

You spent many nights at the teahouse, finishing up closing- but usually it was not alone. Oftentimes, it was Madam Bo who accompanied you; with one last pot of tea brewing and ready to greet you once everything was done. The two of you would sit by the entrance, looking at the stars and quietly planning the next day’s quotas. Some nights Raiden and Kung Lao came by, usually by the latter’s plan, eager to annoy you into closing up faster. Raiden would sit at the smallest table, hat hung up neatly with some water while Kung Lao followed your every footstep, criticising for every speck of dust you left in your wake.

He’d pinch your waist, you’d kick him in the shin, and Raiden would laugh. It, ironically, often pushed you back to doing an extra hour of overtime, but the two’s company was more than welcome, even if you pretend like they were burdensome.

Somewhere in the distance, you hear the sound of a dog barking. It’s far away enough that the sound doesn’t make you jump in your skin; you rest your head on top of your sprawled out forearm, strands of hair spilling onto the table. It was that time of night, where even the hardest of workers reached their homes and were greeted with dogs barking, warm dinner and naggy housewives. But you were here- at the teahouse, alone and stuck with a pile more chores before you could even think about going home.

Once you did get home, everyone would probably be asleep and the house just as quiet as here. Then you’d leave at dawn, before anyone would have woken up. You turn to bury your nose into the crook of your arm, trying to bury the small feeling of dread that bubbled within you.

You were tired, hadn’t had a day off in three weeks, and honestly couldn’t tell if a nervous breakdown and nervous breakTHROUGH was coming your way. In fact, a server had told you to try and take the next few days off, claiming to be sick or something rather. But if you were sick, who would man the kitchen? You still had that delivery of spices coming tomorrow, but then the meeting with the butcher on Tuesday, and…

Tears pool in the corner of your eyes. You pinch the nape of your neck, stifling a bitter laugh. Really? The butcher was the straw that broke your back? The laugh turns sour, and you sniff like a child ready to engage in full cry baby mode. But before you can indulge in a well-deserved cry, you catch a shadow in the corner of your eye. Human-shaped, moving at a slow speed.

A thief? You hadn’t had to deal with any thugs in a long time. Your body stiffened as adrenaline filled your arms, holding your breath as you waited for the right time. Maybe this was a sign- and you could take out your frustration with some good old combat. The moment you catch a foreign scent of leather you know the assailant’s close enough to strike, so you lash out first.

Twisting your torso you kick out the chair in front of you, knocking them back as your other leg coils back for a high kick. The trespasser is decidedly male, wearing all black, and in the blur you managed to catch of him, looked to be unarmed. You want to be confident in ending the confrontation soon, but he effortlessly catches your leg before it reaches him, gloved hands against your thigh and throws it down. The movement trajectory just about sends you to the floor but you catch yourself right before your chin collides with the table edge, nails uncomfortably jutting into the wood.

He holds onto the back of your singlet, far too dangerously close to bare skin. Blood rushes to your ears, draining out the distant sound of the man yelling- you barely grab onto your tang jacket that had fallen onto the ground, whipping it behind you. The heavy fabric hits him in the face and has him let go of you to grasp at it, giving you precious time to regain composure and wind back a nasty cross punch. It lands beautifully, backed up with your weeks of unspoked upset, and the man falls flat on his rear, jacket slipping off his body and back to a puddle on the floor.

You stalk forward with all the intent of beating this man to a pulp and asking questions later. But sobriety shocks your limbs like cold water when you see who’s in front of you; straight nose, short silver hair-

“Tomas!” You cry out, dropping to your knees and gripping onto his shoulder. He offers a strained smile, holding onto his neck. “Oh my gods, are you alright? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Your words are accompanied by a string of apologies and frantic, fleeting hands ghosting over wherever you thought you’d hit him. Right by his jaw, where you’d landed the punch, had a patchy red mark clear as day even in the midnight darkness. You cringe looking at it; why had you gotten him with your good arm? It would turn puffy and dark by the morning.

“I mean, I did say several things, but I don’t think you were listening.” Tomas peers up at you with wide, unblinking eyes, mouth quirked in a frown.

His words were well-meaning; and you knew that being a part of the Lin Kuei meant that he got throttled around ten times worse for breakfast, lunch and dinner- but the idea that you’d so blindly struck a friend without rationalising the situation left you feeling like an angry, primitive caveman.

Tomas got back on his feet long before you did, his shadow offering a comfortable shade from the world. He offers you a large hand, fingertips just peeking into your field of vision.

“You hit pretty hard for a chef, by the way. What are you fighting in that kitchen?” You groan, letting your forehead unceremoniously clash onto the cold floor. Tomas laughs above you, and you feel him dragging you up to your feet. “Sorry, my bad.” The words come out between the occasional giggle.

You let him sit you down on the very chair that had been launched at him not a minute ago, and he settles for standing in front of you with his arms crossed. How he can laugh so brightly with that bruise on his face, you can only wonder; maybe you ought to take a couple notes when it comes to smiling in the face of adversity. You must’ve sighed again subconsciously, because Tomas shoots you a pointed look, his once full grin mellowed into a half-pulled awkward sort of baulk.

A brief moment of silence passes you both, neither quite sure of what to say. The gape in conversation is emphasised by a hissing wind passing by, uncharacteristically cool for the July temperature. Tomas is looking somewhere directly behind your shoulder in an effort to make eye contact, and you aren’t sure how to react; he had always been the more outgoing, conversational one, and it seemed like his energy whether sheepish or cheerful was contagious.

You crack the knuckle of your ring finger in a moment of habit, and cringe when his eyes dart to the sound with mild alarm.

Tomas, this time with a noticeable amount of surprise, asks you if you’re going to hit him again. You debate your answer, deciding to forgo one entirely for a new question.

“Why are you here? You know our opening hours.” Tomas scratches the back of his neck, standing with his head down like he’s being scolded. Which he wasn’t, for the record. You just happened to have a stern way of speaking, is all. He begins several sentences, always halting and rephrasing himself before any of them could come to completion. And despite the smile on his face, his hands gestures in a way that you knew meant he was uncomfortable; before he can continue, you nod sympathetically. Even without big details, once you heard the words ‘brother’ you had a decent idea of the bigger picture.

Tomas scrunches his nose in a way that is small and meek but genuine, sitting down amicably at the chair you pat the surface of. His pale eyes follow you as you stand up, and before he can ask where you’re going you speak first.

“ I’m coming back, with tea. Want anything else?”

“Don’t trouble yourself for me.”

The sound of grumbling is more honest than his words, evident by the way his cheeks flush. You let out a laugh, a first proper one in what feels like days. He rolls his eyes in an attempt to brush it off, but he looks right back at you with a new purpose- hoping you’d listen to the not-so-subliminal subliminal messages he was sending you. A promise in the form of “i’ll see what i can do” is enough to satiate him (for now), and you’re free to shuffle to the dark kitchen, only able to find your way from the dim glow of moonlight.

As the water boils, you scavenge about for anything that might qualm the bottomless pit that was Tomas’ appetite. Having cooked for him for- how long had you been working as a cook here? Four years? Four years was enough time to know that Tomas, who you lovingly refer to mentally as big-boy, could eat as well as he could fight. There wasn’t much to offer, though. Most of the stock was fresh produce, sauces and grains, though there was a little wrapped bamboo steamer nestled in the corner behind some baskets.

You sigh, gingerly pulling it out. Raiden had gifted them to you, from this morning, homemade sesame balls made by his mother or grandmother- the maker not as important as how delicious they were as a sweet you fell in love with, even back when you had them for the first time at ten years old. The original plan was to eat them hot during the mid-afternoon lull, but you had been so busy the entire day they’d been neglected and turned cold. Well, now was as good a time as any, you guessed.

Once the water boiled you prepared two large mugs of… passable tea (you were a chef, not a server) and balanced it carefully along with the bamboo steamer. You only almost dropped the ensemble twice, which all things considered was pretty impressive; even if Tomas’ gleeful snickering made you feel like it was your first day on the job.

Speaking of which, from the moment you exited the kitchen, the man had been observing you like a wide-eyed owl, knees tucked to his chest and two very capable arms hanging by his sides, neither of which made the smallest move to assist you. He watches you set the mugs and steamer on the table, having the nerve to ask where the teapot was if you were going to drink tea.

“No fancy service after hours. Be thankful I didn’t just throw the leaves into lukewarm water.” Tomas snorts at your very real threat, and you let him think you were just joking.

You take a sip of the tea while he enthusiastically blows on him more times than necessary, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart to see if he’d gotten a reaction out of you. It earns a shake of your head, but you find yourself smiling behind the lip of your mug.

He was trying to lighten the mood. Even after you’d been the one to deck him in the face- though to be fair he had snuck up on you. As a repayment of kindness, you nudge the steamer he’d been eyeing over to him. It’s comical, the way the mere thought of a snack could make his face light up.

“As payment for rocking your shit.” He scoffs at your statement.

“I’ll have you know I let you ‘rock my’- Ooohhh, these look good. Are they jian dui? Do you have chopsticks?”

You laugh at how he eagerly rubs his hands together, even harder when you pass him the chopsticks you keep in your apron only to find him wrist-deep in the bamboo steamer pulling out two sesame balls. He lets out an incredulous sounding ‘What?’ before indulging himself in a hearty bite, eating the entire sweet in one fell swoop. The second one, squeezed between his middle and ring finger, is demolished right after he swallows the first bite. The only sound that comes from him is a content hum of appreciation, and then a muffled, food-filled offer of one the sweets; where you take out a single ball.

With an amused huff you lean back in the chair, satisfied for now to watch Tomas eat so passionately. Seeing the way his previously tense face melt into genuine happiness was the kind of reaction every chef loved to see; it was also a reaction he gave you whenever he ate your food as well. It was probably why Tomas was one of your favourite people to cook for- you could even look past his shady Lin Kuei business and strange affinity with smoke bombs.

In between wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and taking a drink from his mug, Tomas asks you a very loaded question in a manner only describable as unceremonious.

“By the way, are you okay? You looked upset when I came in. ”

The question stunlocks you into speechlessness, and your change in posture was enough for him to flinch in his seat, quickly apologising if he had been insensitive. He hadn’t been, you make sure to tell him that, but you just weren’t really used to people asking you for a change. You stare lamely at your still untouched sesame ball, trying to find the right words.

This wasn’t the first time you’d try to talk about your feelings- but you never wanted to burden your family or Madam Bo, and god knows that seriously talking about things with Kung Lao would just feel… weird.

“I think…” You chew the inside of your cheek. “I’m tired? Not from work, I can do that fine; but- maybe it is work, and I’m lying to myself- I don’t know, I’m not making sense and it’s just complaining, probably.”

Tomas props his cheek against the palm of his hand.

“Sometimes after training I cry.”

The sentence, as much as it shocks you into sitting straight, comes out of Tomas like it’s nothing. Your face must’ve looked obviously surprised, because he offers you a half-shrug.

“Not everyday, just when it gets hard. But I never know which part of it is making me miserable, so I end up crying like a kid in my room.”

You look at him wordlessly, trying to find a response. He apologises again, saying he wasn’t the best at comforting people. And you understand- it must be hard, especially when his two older brothers aren’t exactly the role model of loving communication. But despite the blunt phrasing of it all, Tomas’ words helped you feel a little better. Knowing that someone with a lifestyle as different as yours, and one where he had to be tougher than you did, that he also felt the same way made you feel much less alone. You put your sesame ball back in the steamer and roll it amongst the sparse remaining ones.

“I stuck my head in the icebox this afternoon so I didn’t freak out. Madam Bo came in to rush an order, and I got so scared the lid closed on me.”

You still remember the nauseating smell of chilled meat that permeated the ice box, a scent that didn’t leave your hair for hours afterwards. Tomas laughs when you share that, and mentions how Bi Han does something vaguely similar with his ice affinities; it’s a strange image that you have trouble believing. He seems to have an equal anecdote to share for everything you tell him, which both helps you feel less ostracised for your more vulnerable moments and tells you a little more about the enigmatic character that is Tomas. You both talk idly until the mugs of tea had run dry, which seemed to give Tomas the encouragement to speak up,

“My brothers and I were in the area to meet Madam Bo, for a meeting, but I’m not sure what kind of business they had with her.” You raise your eyebrows at the change in his tone; a little more quiet and forlorn; and asking him why he wasn’t in the know only made his shoulders sag further down. “They don’t… tell me about these details. I just know when to show up and what to do.”

Tomas had always walked shoulder to shoulder with Bi Han and Kuai Liang, so for him to say that was a surprise. “I asked too many questions, and it pissed Bi Han off- you know how he is. He went on another one of his… tangents. I didn’t want to hear it, so I left, and came here.”

By the end of it he’s half-speaking and half chewing on the already raw nails of his thumb. He sounds incredibly downtrodden, but in a way where he’d been acquainted with the feeling for a while now; and even gives you the same half-hearted smile you give Madam Bo when she asks you about how you are. Bi Han’s ‘tangents’ weren’t too familiar to you, but you’d heard him angry once. Of course behind the safety of the kitchen walls you were safer than the two brothers actually speaking to him, but the boom of his voice still made you want to duck for cover. If you remembered correctly, he had slipped out something about Tomas not really being his brother- something of the likes. With how much Tomas admired him, you could only imagine how much that would hurt.

Gingerly, you pat his other hand, one that’d been fidgeting splayed out on the table. He takes your thumb, squeezing it in return. You study his hand, faded scars littering where his gloves could not cover. They vary from white to angry red, and there’s one on the joint of his thumb that’s circular, similar to an old oil burn below your knuckle.

“We match!” Tomas seems suddenly overjoyed at the mundane discovery, bringing your smaller hand closer to him and looking over it with much precision. He even puts your hands side by side, smiling to himself when he sees that they really do line up. The warm sight is doing something to your already fragile heart, seeing him handling you so delicately- an experience you’ve missed from anyone in god knows how long; you begin to feel your throat clog up.

He looks up at you, and instead of frantically apologising again, or trying to prevent it, he just takes your hand in both of his, soothingly running his thumbs along your fingers.

And just like that, months of emotional suppression goes down the drain.

When the waterworks finally do turn on, you feel utterly embarrassed to be crying in the presence of a Lin Kuei member, even if he was patient in letting you pathetically gather up your thoughts in snotty blubbering nonsense. You tell him everything- or at least as well as much as you can without making yourself cry harder. Tomas doesn’t say much, only nodding and periodically affirming you when you make the odd negative comment about yourself. Right when you’re coming down from the bulk of emotional distress, you make the mistake of mentioning how upset you were that as a chef, you often went hungry and forgot to eat in favour of work. ‘

By the end of the thought you’re up and ready for another bout of tears until Tomas picks up one of the last sesame balls and feeds it to you. Well, it was more an involuntary feeding- the kind that you did to zoo animals like giraffes or gazelles, but the strange scenario of being hand fed a cold sesame ball is enough to stop the tsunami wave. You tearfully eat the sweet like a child, and everything seems to calm down until you accidentally bite Tomas’ hand and he mentions how even though you were hungry, you couldn’t eat him as well. You knew it was a light-hearted joke, but for some reason, it makes you cry again. He picks up the last one, having the gall wave it in front of you like a parent feeding their child mashed peas; it’s effective in ceasing your tears, but the offence you take from the action takes over an equal amount.

You smack his hand away too hard by accident, sending it tumbling onto the floor and under the table. You yelp, and Tomas immediately ducks to try and pick it up, hitting his head on the table’s underside.

A series of ‘ow, ow, ow, ow’ emits from him like a mantra as he slides off the chair onto the floor, clutching his head for dear life. You burst into watery laughter that grows in strength as he turns to side eye you from his awkward position.

“Are they really that good?” Is a rhetorical question from you because- yes they were- but it’s one you ask to chide the silver haired man. He groans in response, ungracefully slumped over to a cross legged position, still scratching his patch of hair like he’s expecting a miraculous bald spot to have formed. “Don’t… even. Bullying me from the high ground.” he mutters.

You then join him on the floor, knees bumping as you get yourself comfortable. Tomas scuttles momentarily before he turns over with the sesame ball, successfully retrieved, delicately held between two fingers. He blows on it once to get all the dust off, then presents it square in front of your face; you roll your eyes and make a show of blowing air on it like it’s a pinwheel.

“Good as new!”

“You are ridiculous.”

Tomas sticks out his bottom lip and shrugs, and you find yourself feeling somewhat lucky to catch such a candid and free side of him tonight. You both split the last sesame ball and eat it under the table with the secrecy of children sneaking halloween sweets after bedtime, and you giggle when a dollop of the filling drops off of his half and splats right onto his shoe. He shushes you when you snort by accident, as if there were metaphorical adults downstairs ready to catch you red handed. It’s only half way through the motion he notices his own ridiculousness and relents, joining you in the delight of it all.

Once the two of you wipe your hands, finally finished with all the sweets, you stare at the sky above you. Craning your neck to see it under the table, it looks different than it usually does- more daunting, mysterious, like it felt stargazing as a child. You’re not sure what mood overtakes you, but you lean to rest your head on Tomas’ shoulder, cheek squished against the fabric of his Lin Kuei uniform. It’s promptly followed by the feeling of him mirroring your actions on the top of your head. He radiates more body heat than you’re used to- and in the summer heat it borders on being clammy, but the feeling of his shoulders rising and falling is one that so perfectly cures your recent lack of simple human touch.

You stay like this for a while, not moving much aside from Tomas occasionally nuzzling into you for a more comfortable position. He suddenly speaks.

“Sorry for scaring you.”

“...Sorry for punching you in the face.”

“Apology not accepted.”

His voice is soft and cheeky- his usual tone. You elbow him sharply, and he doesn’t even budge. Soon, drowsiness overtakes you, the adrenaline from before melting behind the exhaustion of your work day. You let your eyes close, settling into the crook of Tomas’ neck with the intent of only resting your eyes for the time being. He huffs airly in response, sounding half-asleep himself. It’s incredibly peaceful- in a way that you haven’t felt since sneaking naps during a family reunion; and what was meant to be quiet relaxation turned into the best sleep you’d had in months.

You wake up at the crack of dawn, to the feeling of Tomas being dragged out from under the table. He lets out a string of complaints and frantic this and that, begging the other person for mercy. The other person, as it turned out, was Madam Bo, coming in to open the teahouse. You watch in groggy amusement as he’s whacked in the head with the broom you left by the table last night; as the elderly woman goes on about Tomas being a stupid boy, and for him to leave her precious cook alone.

Before he’s shooed away, he gives you a closed-eye smile and wave, telling you to have a good day at work. You barely have time to raise a hand in acknowledgement before it’s your turn to be dragged out by Madam Bo, thankfully with no broom this time.

#mk1 #mortal kombat #tomas vrbada #mk1 x reader #mk1 smoke #tomas vrbada x reader #smoke x reader #tomas the man you are #he is just really trying his best out there #sometimes you just need to find solace in someone whos life is so incredibly different from your own

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hugshughes · 1 year ago

Text

The 1 A. Fantilli

Adam Fantilli x fem!reader

synopsis - based on “the 1” by Taylor Swift obvs. The school year starts back up at the University of Michigan and after your break up with Adam, you’re trying to live life freely but can’t seem to get the idea of him and your relationship off your mind. But what happens when you see him again, and you both are yearning for each other more than ever before?

wc - 4.5k (:0)

contains - lowkey angst but also very fluffy closure, reader cries, miscommunication a little bit (i know), kissing, cuddling. (if i missed anything please let me know!!!!)

an - this is the first part in my folklore 100 follower celebration! i’m so excited for it! i do not loveeee this but i really wanted to get this first part out! hopefully you guys like this! here is the masterlist to this celebration. me when im about to make a fic based off “the 1” have a happy ending 😊. also sorry this took longer than expected i has surgery the other day and did not pop back to normal like i assumed i would lmao. please someone get the betty refernce at the end ;))) also i still need a player to use for my betty fic for this celebration so… someone request someone. also this is barely edited so sorry. also should i make a taglist?? would anyone like that??

i’m doing good, i’m on some new shit. been saying “yes” instead of “no”.

To say you were definitely doing much better now that August had arrived was a true statement. You’d been a wreck most of the summer over your breakup with Adam, but as the summer started to slow down and your tan glowed, you felt you heart get lighter and rid itself of it’s burdens.

You and Adam had broken up just a little bit before the draft. The prospect of him being in Anaheim while you finished school in Ann Arbor sounded like an impossible feat to conquer.

You also knew what the newfound NHL fame would bring Adam, even more attention than before, new people, new friends, new girls surrounding him. And while you knew Adam would never in a million years cheat on you, you didn’t want him to feel like he had to be tied to something, someone, 2,234 miles away, to be exact.

When you watched the draft and saw Leo get drafted to Anaheim, your heart sank to your stomach. Many tears were shed that night, knowing the boy you loved with all of you wouldn’t be 2,234 miles away, only 190.

You assumed that if he wanted you back he would’ve called, or texted, or emailed, or sent a letter, anything. But you got nothing, so you accepted that he was perfectly okay with still being apart. Even though it did hurt because you remembered the night both of you cuddled close and whispered about how amazing it would be if he went to Columbus and not Anaheim.

i thought i saw you at the bus stop, i didn’t though.

When school started back up, you couldn’t help but see him everywhere you went. You did feel better, and you were healing, but it did instill an ache in your chest when you’d see your favorite study spot, your table at the starbucks right off campus, his dorm building, everything.

You even thought you saw him there once, your eyes widened with fear as you thought you saw him standing at a bus stop on campus but it wasn’t him, just another brunette boy, but not yours.

i hit the ground running each night. i hit the sunday matinée. you know the greatest films of all time were never made.

It was hard for about a week or so, being back in the place where you fell head over heels in love with him, but your friends would always be quick to cheer you up and tell you “it’s gonna be okay.” And most of the time you believed them.

You’d gone to many more parties than you had last year, you were usually trying to spend time with Adam and you two preferred being alone together than things like parties.

You felt the ache when you saw a guy taking his girlfriend to the Barbie movie, as stupid as that seems. You and your friends had all waited to see it until you were back together and you were all dolled up in your pink outfits. But you couldn’t help but have that same ache when you remembered Adam promising to take you to see if, and promising to wear pink just for you.

Obviously, that never happened. After the movie you couldn’t help but pull up your photos and scroll through your ‘Adam🤍’ album, the videos got to you the most.

Adam had made you film yourself when you opened your birthday gift from him, you had no idea why.

“Baby, why am I filming this?”

“Because, I want to be able to rewatch your reaction to it!”

You give him a funny look, and he urges you to open the big bag, seeing a jersey, a Michigan jersey. You’re pretty confused because you have a Fantilli jersey already, one you wear often. You pull it out of the bag and unfold it and turn it around, and then you see it. Instead of Fantilli across the back, it says “MY MAN”. Your jaw drops, you start laughing so hard, like stomach hurting from how hard you’re laughing.

Adam joins in your laughter, asking if you like it. You tackle him in a hug, kissing his cheek twice.

“It’s so perfect!”

The video was perfect, it ended in your phone falling from it’s propped up place on your desk as you kissed Adam. You felt happy and sad when you saw it. Happy that it happened, that you were able to ever experience that kind of love. Sad because it was all gone now.

i guess you never know, never know. and if you wanted me, you really should’ve showed. and if you never bleed, you’re never gonna grow.

You know that if you had the chance, you’d go back to Adam without thinking for two seconds. He was the best thing that you’d ever been graced with. He was everything to you, and you know that in a tucked away part of your heart he still is.

You just wish you both had tried harder, because you both loved each other with all of your beings. You just wished you both showed how much you really wanted it at the end, but both of you were scared of how the other was feeling.

but we were something, don’t you think so? roaring 20’s, tossing pennies in the pool.

In the middle of the night, when you’re staring at the ceiling of your room after watching Adam’s newest highlights you tend to always think about one thing; if he still thinks about you, the way you do him.

You hoped he did, you hoped you weren’t the furthest thing from his mind at all times. And if you were to ask him, he would tell you that you were all he could think of for months, you were the only thing on his mind when he woke up, and when he went to sleep. Columbus was fun, and new, and exciting, but you were everything to him.

Adam had hoped you’d send him a text the night of the draft, and then he’d be able to start talking to you again. But, you never texted, you were worried he wouldn’t care if you did. You didn’t want to embarrass yourself.

and if my wishes came true it would’ve been you.

You had wished on 11:11s, fallen stars, eyelashes, candles, four-leaf clovers, everything, that you and Adam would be together always, and that didn’t end when you broke up, you still wished for him, always.

in my defense, i have none. for never leaving well enough alone. but it would’ve been fun, if you would’ve been the one.

You always felt like you were doing something wrong towards the end of your relationship, not because of Adam. It was because you just had a voice in the back of your head telling you that you weren’t doing enough for him and that you were making him upset, and it led to you doing things to try to fix that but only would end up making things worse.

You just needed him always, you two were inseparable. You were at every home game, a good amount of the away games, and then you were almost always together during any free time you two had. While you were only together for about a year, you could see your life with Adam. He had said something to you about wanting to marry you, 5 months after you started dating. You were just it for each other.

i have this dream you’re doing cool shit. having adventures on your own. you meet some woman on the internet and take her home.

You think about if he has met another girl yet. You know that those hockey teams like going out together and they definitely attract lots of female attention. The ache came back at the thought of him sleeping in the same bed as another woman.

we never painted by the numbers, baby. but we were making it count.

Some people thought your relationship was, unrealistic, in a sense. You and Adam were together all the time, and it made certain family members and friends question what would happen after the draft came and Anaheim took your boyfriend from you. But obviously, Anaheim didn’t take your boyfriend, Columbus did, which made the breakup hurt even more.

Every minute you spent with Adam was full of love. There were very little disagreements, and the few that did take place were always out of love, which also made everything hurt more. No one could’ve seen your breakup coming, you two included, it just came up one night and ended up with you two calling it quits. It was the first time you’d ever seen Adam cry, and that broke you inside.

you know the greatest loves of all time are over now. i guess you never know, never know. and it’s another day waking up alone.

Sometimes you wake up and forget he’s not yours anymore, that he might even be someone else’s. And then you snap back to reality and it hits you like a train. Your roommates sometimes leave sticky notes to you that you’re gonna be okay, that’s everything’s okay. He was the greatest thing ever. Your love for him conquered all.

i, i, i persist and resist the temptation to ask you, if one thing had been different. would everything be different today?

You just play back every single moment in your head. Wondering if you’d done anything different if you’d still be his, if he’d still love you how he did. What you didn’t know was that he was doing the same exact thing 190 miles from you, resisting the urge to text you.

Adam was counting down the days until his birthday, praying that you would text him, allowing him to start a conversation with you. You were as well, having typed out your birthday message to him already, weeks early, waiting to be sent.

but we were something, don’t you think so? rosé flowing with your chosen family. and it would’ve been sweet, if it could’ve been me.

You two would spend nights with his friends, the boys he loved most, and his teammates because you wanted them to like you because he liked them. You wanted to be able to have their approval and you definitely did. Your friendships lasting with a few of the players, specifically Dylan Duke.

Dylan had been so incredibly sweet to you when you met, understanding how it probably felt to be surrounded by a team of boys who you didn’t know. He was someone you could hang out with at hockey parties when you felt like you were being too clingy to Adam.

in my defense i have none, for digging up the grave another time.

Dylan had been begging you to come to a hockey game since before the season started. And you were finally convinced so you are going to attend the 2nd Providence game. They won last night 2-4 and were hoping to do the same again.

You felt the ache when you were searching through your umich gear for your outfit to the game and found your Fantilli jerseys. You took a deep breath and pushed it off, grabbing a blue and maize crewneck and throwing it on over your leggings and blazers and leaving.

You got into the Children of Yost section pretty easily, but it was always a hassle nonetheless. You found some friends and stood with them, shouting cheers when the guys skated out.

You and your friends were pretty close to the glass in the student section, only a few rows back, so you were able to see the guys really well. You screamed when Dylan scored his first goal of the night, he saw you and laughed so hard. Luca, who was hugging his teammate was confused by how hard Dylan was laughing, and looked to see what the source of his entertainment was. When he saw you, jumping up and down with your friends, screaming for Dylan, he was shocked. Shocked you’d even come to a game. And then his eyes widened when he realized his brother was here, watching him play.

When the first period was over the Childen of Yost settled down and danced to the songs and did the little games that came up to on the jumbotron. Your fun halted when you saw Adam come up on the screen, the words “Welcoming back former Wolverines!” and his names flashing on it. Your friends saw and their jaws dropped. He hadn’t been at the game the night before, of course he hadn’t, of course this was the game he came to.

You brushed it off and insisted that you were fine. You continued to have fun and mess around with your friends during the break in between periods. But then Adam had the shock of his life, staring at the screen as the view of you and your friends dancing to American Boy by Estelle & Kanye as the cameras showed different groups of the Children of Yost.

The second he gets over his shock you’re off the screen, and he’s slightly leaning out of his seat, searching the crowd of the student section, and then he saw you, messing around and playing with your friends. Part of him wishes you were in his jersey, as unrealistic as that seems. He wonders if you still have his jerseys, if they’re in a thrift store somewhere, or if they’re tucked away in the bottom of a box in your room.

He knows Dylan probably convinced you to come, because Dylan was your favorite of his friends, and the two of you guys were “besties” whenever you were together. He wonders if you’ll go down towards the locker room after the game to see Dylan and if he’ll get to see you again.

The game ended soon enough, the guys winning 3-4 with 2 goals from Duker. He texted you after the game to come down, wanting to go to eat with you after.

from: Duka👊

Dude come down after I wanna go eat

from: Y/n/n🤝

idk duke i kinda wanna go home

from: Duka👊

Bro no you have to stop being a loser

from: Y/n/n🤝

fine.

He liked your message and you let out a sigh,

“Hey guys, I’m gonna go down and see Duke. I’ll see you guys later, okay?”

They nodded and gave you light hugs, telling you random things that are always part of girl goodbyes.

“Are you sure, do you think Adam’ll be down there, babe?”

You sighed again, shrugging, hugging her tighter.

“Don’t know, but I can’t let him stop me from doing things, right? If I see him, I see him. I don’t know if he’ll say anything to me, but if he does I’ll just talk to him normally, you know?”

The girls all nod, saying goodbye again, telling you things about your said “girl power”. You made your way through the arena, getting let through by security and heading back to the hall where the players come out.

You kept your head in your phone as you leaned against the wall, snapping people, scrolling through Instagram, and texting your mom about the game.

Dylan came out fast compared to usual. You high-fived him as he came up to you, congratulating him on his two goals. He thanked you and then was quick to try to get you guys to leave.

“Dylan, It’s okay. I know he’s here. I’m not gonna like, run away from him. Alright?”

“Yeah alright, he was just in the locker room and I was worried you might not know, 'cause I didn’t even know, so.”

You nodded and smiled at him, patting his shoulder in thanks. Then you realized he was missing something.

“Dylan, did you leave your phone in the locker room?”

He looked at you in confusion, then patting the pocket on his bag, and then his sweatpants pockets, then his sweatshirt pocket, but came up empty.

“Shit. Alright, I’ll be back in half a second, wait here.”

You nod and he hands you his backpack, racing back to the locker room. You put his bag on your back and look back at your phone again. And then you hear him, his laugh. You don’t even wanna look up, you glance out of the corner of your eye, seeing his silhouette.

You freeze in your stance, fingers pausing on your screen. You hear him, Luca, and Mark talking very loudly. Adam sees the bag on your back first “DUKE #25” along the side of it. Then he realizes it’s you. He quiets down very quickly, almost stopping in his tracks.

Luca notices his baby brother’s change in attitude instantly, whipping his head to the side, his eyes meeting your figure. Mark, somehow sees you and his mind doesn’t think for two seconds. He calls your name, happy as ever.

“Hey! Come here I haven’t seen you in forever. What’s up?”

You wince at his obliviousness, or maybe his uncaring of the situation. You squeeze your eyes shut for a second before putting a smile on.

“Hey Mark, I’m fine. How are you?”

He nods and replies, half hugging you and pulling you back towards his group. Luca quickly says hey to you, wrapping his arms around you briefly.

You look at Adam, your eyes softening. He looks at you as if you’re the only girl in the world, and to him, you are. You go to say hey to him but he hugs you before words can come out. He holds you so so tightly, and you practically grip him. Fuck, you missed him.

“Hey, Adam.”

You feel him take a deep breath in, rubbing his hand up and down your back.

“Missed you.”

“Missed you too, Adam.”

You both seem to realize you aren’t alone and you pull away, clearing your throat as the other two boys look at you with huge smiles. You feel heat radiating from your cheeks as the four of you stand there.

The awkward silence is cut off by Dylan racing back through the hall.

“Hey dude, sorry I took so long. Ty started asking me about something-”

He stopped himself when he saw you standing inches from Adam, a blush covering your face. He tries to cover the smile overtaking his face.

“Oh hey guys, um well, we were about to go eat, you guys wanna join?”

Your eyes widened at Dylan, cursing at him in your head, hoping you’d gained mind powers that could disintegrate him. Just because you can stand here and hug him doesn’t mean you can sit and eat dinner with him.

Mark jumps to accept, telling you two that you should also invite the other guys still in the locker room. You agree, thinking the more the merrier for your situation. You and Dylan let the other guys know and then take off. In the car, you turn to Dylan and almost shout at him.

“Dylan Duke! What the fuck?”

He smiles at you, that stupid smile. You shake your head and sigh loudly leaning back against the headrest and closing your eyes.

“I saw how you were looking at each other in there. And Mark whispered to me about your hug. I know that this is for your own good dude. At least get civil with him.”

You sigh and nod, your eyes still closed. Dylan lets out a noise of agreement, and you two drive to your chosen restaurant.

When you pull up to a restaurant on a Saturday night and ask for a table for 10, you usually are looked at like you have two heads. But in Ann Arbor, when a umich hockey player comes in and asks that, they will make it happen.

You and Dylan were the first to get there, sitting across from each other at the far end of the table. Tyler, Rutger, and Ethan arrive next, Tyler sitting at the end chair between you and Dylan, and Rut and Eth sitting next to Dylan. Adam, Luca, and Mark arrived next. You watched Mark push Adam forward to sit in the space on your right.

He smiles at you awkwardly as he sits down next to you, making sure to leave a comfortable amount of space between you. Lastly, Seamus and Mackie arrive, taking the last two seats at the table. All the guys were talking around you while you checked your phone every minute or so to try to look busy. You glance to your side and notice Adam as bored as you.

“Hey Fants.”

His head quickly turns to you, a bright smile adorning his features.

“Hi.”

“How’s Columbus? Sorry I never congratulated you, I just-”

“Hey! It’s okay, I understand, alright? But it’s nice, I’ve made a couple of new friends and stuff. It was nice already knowing people there.”

“Yeah, yeah. That’s really good Adam.”

Adam stared at you longingly as you stared at your fingers. You were messing with the rings you always wore, then realized how you were wearing your ring from Adam. You felt like you couldn’t let him see it, worried you might embarrass yourself. You covered your hand with your other, trying to make your position look as natural as possible.

When you looked back over to him and he was already staring at you, you swear your heart started pounding, even more so than already. His eyes looked sad, something so uncommon to see him feeling. He’d always been your happy boy, always bringing you up and making you better.

You would rather climb to the rooftops and scream to every Ann Arbor citizen of your everlasting love for Adam than even whisper it to him. His eyes, though, they’re like the ocean. One look and all of your senses are gone.

“I really missed you Adam.”

You didn’t look at him when you whispered it, you stared at the football game playing on the TV across the restaurant, the Bengals were winning by 14. Your hand pressed into the wood of your chair next to your thigh, running your fingers back and forth across the grain. You didn’t flinch physically when you felt his hand brush over yours, but your heart felt like it was about to implode.

“You have no idea how much I missed you.”

You finally got the courage to look into his eyes. You turn, just a little, and look at him, the raw look on his face, his glazed-over eyes, his bit at lips, your boy, he’d always been yours, always will be.

“And, you have no idea how badly I want to kiss you right now.”

He mumbled it, not caring if you heard or not, he just knew he had to say it, if not to you then to admit it to himself, that he wanted to kiss you.

Adam watched as your eyes widened innocently, he loves everything you do. He just stared, he knew you heard him, he didn’t know what to do after that, and neither did you. You seemed to have gotten lost in the moment, forgetting about the 8 other hockey players surrounding you, who had honestly mostly just stopped really talking to each other and were mostly watching you and Adam.

In that moment, you couldn’t even hear them, you couldn’t even see them. They were blurry, muted, and muffled, but looking at Adam, it was so clear. You weren’t thinking, you were just following whatever split-second decision your heart made and grabbed his face, kissing Adam. You fucking kissed him. His hands wrapped around your wrists, kissing you back immediately. You kissed for maybe three seconds, the hustle and bustle all around coming back to you.

You pulled away from him first, if it was his choice he would’ve made out with you right there in front of everyone. You looked at him with wide eyes, and he still had his big beautiful smile. You hear an ‘oh shit’ come from Luca’s mouth, and then the rest of the guys at the table going crazy and immediately feel embarrassed. Your face burns as you quickly wipe your lips with your sleeve, burying your face in your hands as a smile reluctantly makes its way to your face.

Adam has the biggest grin on his face as he scoots his chair closer to you, wrapping his arm around you, pulling you close. Adam’s hand rests on your hip, tracing shapes already like it was never gone. Like it was home after being away for far too long. You know the two of you would have a big conversation about everything later. But for right now, you just let him hold you, and you let him order for you, because he always knew what you wanted, even now.

When dinner came, Adam’s hand left your hip, but it ended up holding yours under the table like you were two fourteen-year-olds hiding from your parents. He started messing with your hand, pulling it more into his lap so he could play with it with both of his hands. He’d always done this when you were together, he would mess with your hand while he talked to others at dinners or parties or anything.

Adam was shocked when he felt it, the cool band on your ring finger. He looked down at your hand, eyes widening when he saw his ring still adorning your finger. He stared at you with so so much love in his eyes, from across the table, Luca could see how happy his baby brother was, and he was so thankful for you.

“You still have my ring on.”

You couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement when he whispered to you. You looked down at the band on your finger, smiling sheepishly at him and blushing. You nodded slowly, not knowing how to explain it to him.

“I just really like it. And I just really like you, so.”

He laughs, nodding at you with amusement, letting out an ‘Oh yeah?’ to which you nod assuringly.

You knew he was the 1. You’d known when he had first introduced himself to you. You could tell that this new beginning to your relationship was going to last, that the time apart only made you both stronger. You’d always loved him, and always will, and if kissing him in a crowded restaurant in front of all of his stupid friends is what it takes to have him, you definitely would.

but it would’ve been fun, if you would’ve been the one.

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sweetestcaptainhughes · 3 months ago

Text

☁️ - fluff 🙈 - angst ‼️ - smut

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akiranzee · 1 month ago

Note

Hi! Could you please do a Muzan x female!Reader..

She was dating one of the hashiras (you choose, preferably male) when she was sent on a mission to get close to Muzan and relay information. She ends up falling in love with Muzan and him her, but one night he follows her and finds out where she’s been going and sees the other dude kiss her, he’s obviously furious and starts a whole ass fight. He ends up giving her an ultimatum, she can either come live with him and be a demon or she can stay and die with the other guy, she chooses Muzan (he’s super smug, he knew she’d chose him), the other guy is begging her not to do this and that he’s brain washed her etc…

I don’t know how to end it but I really hope that makes sense, but do whatever you want with it!

Thank you so much if you do write it! If not no hard feelings 🩷

🎗️ • ° ` — \\ “WRONG TIME, WRONG PERSON?”

╰┈➤ PAIRINGS: muzan x hashira!y/n ╰┈➤ W/C: 4.5k+ ╰┈➤ CONTAINS: ONE cuss word., violence, choking, hints of killing, & muzan is 1,000 while reader is 21. (but both r 1,000+ yro in the bonus.) ╰┈➤ A/N: HELPP WTF THIS WAS SO LONG FOR A REQUESTTTT.

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------------Complete!------------

november 29, xxxx.

“sanemi! happy birthday to you!” enthusiastically, you peeked your head in the wind hashira’s estate, “look! i brought some ohagis over!” as the wind hashira’s gaze could only soften and welcome you into his warm home.

in this world, it was not so often that births are celebrated. not only because of the ordinary populace’s decline in poverty, but also because of the demons who make those of “heroes” forget.

that’s why, in this smallest gesture you could ever do, sanemi loved you, even when it was hard for him to express it.

and that’s also why, three days later, sanemi disapproved of the news, and wished to instead take on your mission in your place, saying that it was too dangerous, but of course, he could do nothing as it was per oyakata-sama’s orders.

due to the help of the kamado kid last week, the hashiras and possibly the whole demon slayers have already known muzan — the demon king’s face by now.

and so, there you see him, strolling around at the red light district, with his supposedly “wife and daughter” as you have already started your mission just about two hours ago.

his red, crimson eyes say everything, and his evil aura could be felt from miles away.

sneakily, you blend in to the crowd, hoping to not lose sight of him, and thank god, you did not. you took a newspaper from a random old man’s hand, sneaking in a little “sorry” as he looked at you with a flabbergasted expression.

discreetly, you started to “read” the newspaper as you keep switching places to another, as muzan and his “family” kept sauntering away to wherever location they were going.

honestly, you didn’t know why you were the hashira chosen for this mission. both shinobu and mitsuri are far more capable, but they did say your beauty is outmatched, one that could mesmerize even the coldest of hearts. i mean — just look at sanemi, that man is as hard as rock, as cold as ice, and as angry as fire. and yet, here you were, making him go all putty in your hands, as if he was never the man he was before he met you.

after a few stops, muzan and his “wife” arrived at a readied, secluded carriage, in which he sent his wife and daughter away, leaving him still in the area.

as you slowly, discreetly, go back to the bench you were once sitting at, you continued to pretend reading the still newspaper in your hand, as he made his way to a certain building — for prostitutes.

expectedly, that’s what evil men do anyway, cheat on their wives, hurt them, without any ounce of care as muzan just held his head up high as he walked towards the building’s entrance. but surprisingly, this demon king had a lot of time in his hands as if demon slayers never existed.

and so, you waited, and waited, until he came out of the building. it was for ten minutes, which was so long for you, but so short if he ever participated in any sexual orientation.

for the past few days, you followed, and followed him around like a lost puppy, still avoiding his eerie, deadly gaze.

until, one day, that spying from afar ended, when he found out and cornered you on an empty alley.

“how pathetic. you like me, you say?” you nod your head vigorously, as you lied through your pink, plump lips, with the claim that you followed him around because you liked him, as his deep, gruff voice asked you.

“hah. do you not know that I am a married man?” he said, with pure mockery in his voice, but you could only resist rolling your eyes in response, as you know full well that he does not even love his wife, and he dares to say that with such fake pride.

“i-i’m sorry...” you could only mutter a pitiful apology, after all, this man wrapping his whole hand around your neck can just kill you before you can even blink your eye.

“why apologize-” as muzan was about to retort something, he could sense that one of his demons was nearby, and he couldn’t risk having his identity revealed to you, yet.

he let out a disappointed “tsk” as he then, disappeared out of the alley.

and from that encounter on, you learned that this mission was just as hellish as hell.

you took a short break for three to four days, currently eating at a ramen shop, when,

“we’ve met again.” again, a deep, gruff voice was behind you, its familiarity was so hard to forget, that you shivered without even seeing the source of that voice.

eagerly, a child’s voice could be heard right after the man’s voice, “daddy, i’d like my usual ramen!” curious, you finally looked behind you to see the demon king himself, standing tall and proud along with a little girl standing beside him.

“hm,” muzan hummed in agreement, “go on then, doll, order up. i’d like to catch up with my dear old friend here.” almost immediately, he was sitting in front of you, leaving no choice but to humor him and act all clueless again.

“it seems we have some unfinished business, hm?” he leaned back against the couch, with an underlying smirk threatening to appear.

he heard you gulp, “...haha.. do we..? I don’t remember, unfortunately-” and almost immediately, he ‘accidentally’ knocked out the glass full of water on the floor, making you shiver and jolt in surprise; “oh please.. I don’t like to play pretend.”

you gulped again, but this time, you had to build up pounds of courage to finally stop him from whatever imaginations and delusions he might come up with.

“yes, I do like you! b-but what of it?? ‘ts not like you’re gonna like me back or somethin’-” you immediately shut up after that, afraid to slip your ‘true’ words, trying to continue the act of a lovesick-pathetic girl.

“hmm... indeed, but there’s really something about you that I can’t quite get out of my mind.. hmm.. your beautiful features? or.. your blood, perhaps?” that last question sent chills down your spine as he tilted his head mockingly.

did he find out? did your act fail? is he gonna kill you here and now?

“daddy!” suddenly, a loud, cheery voice could be heard as the little girl from back then — who you now remember as his daughter, carrying a bowl of ramen and proceeded to sit beside her ‘dad’.

muzan simply looked at her, and back at you, still with a sinister smirk threatening to appear.

but, you wondered, even though he was a cruel, evil man, a child seems to have taken a liking to him.

maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as bad as they’ve all said, or maybe he was just manipulating the little girl-

“so? your answer to my question, please.” sarcastic. you thought, as if a demon would ever say ‘please’ out of sincerity.

wait- what question?

oh.

“i-i’m afraid there’s no answer to that question, muz- mister!” your eyes widened in horror as you accidentally slipped out a word that may have broken your stuttering-pitiful-scared facade.

“oh? is that so?” his grin widened. it was at this moment that you knew he knew everything.

“muz what?” of course, he’ll ask.

“oh, no! nothing! i was simply having a speech error haha-”

“speech error? never heard of that.” muzan immediately cut you off, despite the grin still in his face, you know you’re playing a dangerous game with the changed look in his eyes.

“daddy, why does she look scared?” again, the little girl interrupted, she’s probably saved your life two times this hour already.

“hmm... what do you think, darling? does daddy look scary?” he asked his daughter with a sweet tone, leaning in on his daughter with a hush whisper.

“no, daddy doesn’t look scary at all!” from her father, she turned her head towards you, “he’s the best daddy in the whoooooleee wide world!!” she said, emphasizing the word ‘whole’ with her hands expanding on an invisible space.

it makes you rethink. again. was this all a manipulative act, or a sincere admiration of the little one?

“hm.” muzan hums in agreement, a smug, distinct proud smile on his lips.

“lady, what’s your name? daddy barely has any friends, so i want to know you!” the innocent voice of the child despite insulting words makes you look at muzan, who was not very happy with his child’s words, side-eyeing her even, his smile completely fading.

it makes you chuckle.

~~~~~

you didn’t know what happened, but.. why are you and the demon king himself babysitting his daughter in the park?

“hehe! come, y/n! let’s play some more!” oh goodness, hearing the child’s cheery voice makes you shudder in dread, she was innocently evil for making you catch pigeons for her.

yet, unbeknownst, you had fun. it made you forget your problems, your mission, and... the fact that you were with the demon king himself. that day, he was only muzan to you, a sophisticated man. nothing more, nothing less.

sometimes, you also forget you once hated children. they were the epitome of the devil, you say; yet here you are — laughing with a child that you knew for only a few hours.

and so, the day has come to an end. as you slowly walk away, you can hear sniffles coming from little anna, muzan’s daughter’s name.

muzan didn’t try to soothe nor comfort his little girl, despite her messy attempts at wiping her tears and snot.

meters apart, you felt relief in your chest that you weren’t the only one who got attached. softly, did you smile, and slowly, did you turn and completely walk away.

yet, not even four steps ahead, the little girl ran and clung on your leg, “y/n!! don’t leave, don’t leave, i want you to stay!!” her snot only grew longer, and her face only became wetter.

you knelt down, using a piece of cloth you always bring around to wipe her snot and tears. unbeknownst, muzan watched the sight with dear. it was the first time that his daughter had easily grown attached to a grown up. after all, the little girl was taught never to talk to strangers.

“tomorrow.” suddenly, muzan spoke. “she will come back.” he continued. then, with eyes full of hope, the little girl looked up to you, “promise?” as she slowly stopped crying.

quietly, you sighed, and discreetly, you glared at muzan, having to be forced to see his face again.

but yet, how could you say no? anna stopped crying, whilst her eyes glimmered in such hope. you’d be evil to crush that light out of her eyes when you say no. so, instead, “i promise.” reluctantly, you agreed, and smiled.

~~~~~

hours, days, weeks, had passed. and the tomorrows’ seem to never end.

little anna chuckled as you both spent your time on the ground, relaxing for a moment after an exhausting race with her.

“hehe, you’re so fun to be with, y/n.” little anna’s head swayed side by side, as if lulling herself to sleep with the cold, comforting breeze of the wind.

then, her head fell forward, as you caught her and positioned her in a more comfortable position, her head against your shoulder. yet, you never fail to hear the words that escaped her mouth before she had been lulled to sleep, “i wish you were my mama..”

your eyes widened, looking down at the now asleep anna against your shoulder. muzan only chuckled, who — by the way, scared you to death as he bought some ohagis, and never announced his return.

“seems like she likes you.” he said, as he plopped down and handed you your fair share of ohagis.

“thanks for pointing out the obvious.” you chewed on a ohagi, one with the sesame and soy bean flavor, its taste somewhere along with ‘strong’ or ‘rough’, something not really your type, but sanemi’s type.

right- how is sanemi? it’s been long, way too long, actually. you never went back to the demon slayer base, nor went home to your estate.

you missed him, dearly. you’ve been way too distracted with this man in front of you, eating the same flavor of ohagi that your beloved liked.

you hated the beat of your heart that would grow faster each and every time your skin brushes against his, when he’d look at you differently than he would look at everyone else, or even when right now — when he’d hand-feed you the same ohagi he had given to you, and the same one that he had chewed on.

it made your heart flutter, and you hated every single bit of it.

the guilt of falling in love with an enemy is unbearable — it makes you want to kill yourself.

you stared at his deep, red, crimson eyes. it was the same eyes that looked at every living thing disgustingly, yet also the same eyes that looked at you with affection.

right, how did it start? it was merely little anna that you thought who grew to enjoy your company, and like you. you never noticed anything, but a few weeks before, muzan had started to place himself nearer to you, started laughing at your lame jokes, and you guys eventually started to get along in most things.

it had given you an advantage, yet the only problem was he still had his guard up high.

hell, you didn’t even know what to do, the only instruction given to you was to gather information, but even up until now, oyakata-sama never sent you a single letter.

so, you decided, it was best to see for yourself how your fellow demon slayers were doing, also your companion crow that was forced to stay behind otherwise your cover might be blown.

~~~~~

“aaackk!! y/n-san you’ve arrived!!” mitsuri says, with her voice full of joy and excitement, as she also greeted you with her very warm hug.

“o-okay m-mitsuri- hah- san-” you said breathlessly, after the many times you were shaken and jumped on by your arrival, not to mention; mitsuri’s hug could kill.

“mitsuri-san, please allow her to breathe in some air.” shinobu, with her ever so smiling face, calmly told mitsuri.

“oh! oops! sorry, i’m just soo excited!!” instead of hugging you again, mitsuri rejoiced in clapping her hands.

you felt relieved, everyone seemed to be okay here, and you felt happy, everyone seemed to be still the same, celebrating your arrival in one piece.

after catching up your breath, you looked around, and noticed something was off.

“where’s sanemi?” you asked mitsuri, but before mitsuri could even answer, “he’s on his estate, my child.” oyakata-sama answered right behind you, giving you a jolt of shock, but also relief that he also stayed the same.

“oyakata-sama.” you bowed your head, out of respect, whilst, oyakata-sama merely chuckled and patted your head; “go forth, shinazugawa has been down too lately, you see — your absence had made him more aggressive, even I cannot control such temperament.” even if you heard the disappointment in oyakata-sama’s voice, he still remained calm, and reserved with a smile on his face.

“yeah! he even punched tanjiro-kun on the face when tanjiro-kun only asked where you were!!” mitsuri said, feigning sadness in her voice.

“he has visited the butterfly estate quite too often, with multiple injuries.” shinobu sighed and shook her head, but her smile was still remaining on her face.

you seriously have to go visit him now, until tengen added; “yeah! i don’t know if he’s become a brute old man, or a snarly beast at this point — he’s gone waaaay too far when he shoulder-bumped me! so not flamboyant!” tengen said exasperatedly, and you could only respond in a chuckle as you walked out.

oh, you wonder, how will he look like as a brute old man?

but more importantly — how will he look at you? will he still look at you with eyes that say “i love you”, or will it be brute aggression, just like the others described?

you hated how you hesitantly knocked on the door. you hated why you were so nervous, when you’ve spent most of your time with him.

weeks apart can’t possibly make you awkward with each other, right?

maybe. as you knocked softly, you can hear a grunting, deep voice within; “go away!”

you flinched. you have yet to be on sanemi’s bad side, this was the first.

you swallowed down the enveloping fear, though. this was not the time, you missed him. too much.

you knocked again, but this time, followed by your soft voice; “sanemi, it’s me.” a soft whisper, alluring to an ear, quick steps and thuds could be heard from within the estate, and the next thing you know; the door burst wide open — revealing a groggy, haggard sanemi.

his eye bags were as deep as the ocean, as black as the void, his lips were cracked as glass, his bed hair messy as a wolf’s uncared coat.

his eyes were wide open, as wide as the door he just burst open.

you never know. weeks apart, why do you still look the same, maybe even better than before, but why he — look worse than before?

immediately, his arms clasped around your body, but somehow, you didn’t feel the same way as you did before.

you felt nothing. the expectation of your heart rising, and the excitement of feeling his heat against yours, turned to disappointment.

instead, you hesitated. you didn’t know why, but you reluctantly hugged him back, seeming as to not share the same enthusiasm with him.

sanemi couldn’t wonder enough though, he was more than happy with your arrival. he could care less about such trivial things.

he pulled away, and patted his palm on all parts of your body, trying to comprehend if this is real, that you are real.

he looked in your eyes then. he had a spark, but you couldn’t share it. no, you didn’t feel the same way as you did before, it felt as if... you couldn’t get yourself to love him anymore.

weeks apart, and things already turned out this way.

weeks apart, and you are already ruined.

his eyes held the shiniest reflection of the moonlight, yet you couldn’t admire it better than you admired a certain crimson-eyed that reflected the sun a mere while ago.

it felt weird, honestly. you thought sanemi could be the one, yet you were wrong. very wrong.

suddenly, his lips latched on to yours. you felt disgusted, as if this wasn’t the same man you shared your meals with, spent most of your time with, and battled against all the problems life had presented you with. yet, it was still not right. you didn’t hold the same affection as he did, not anymore.

suddenly, the bush that had been quiet, had grown loud, followed with a snarl that immediately lunged at sanemi.

once his lips were unlatched from yours, you felt a wave of... relief? no, you didn’t know. but you were sure it felt comfortable once his lips left yours.

but, enough of that. the shadow that leaped from the darkness of the bush tackled sanemi to the ground, a groan released from the white-haired man as his back had hit the ground.

your eyes widened — seeing the very crimson-eyed one that you had admired just a while ago under the heat of the sun.

it didn’t look at you with affection, not anymore. and somehow, it saddens you.

his eyes were full of fierce and rage, and... yet a hint of... betrayal? hah. you wonder why.

upon eye contact with him, sanemi immediately took this chance and pushed muzan off with such strength, immediately grabbing his katana from his waist.

it didn’t matter if he was the third strongest hashira though. he was still up against the demon king himself, that he doesn’t even know of.

you looked at muzan with pleading eyes, but his back was turned against you. yet, muzan could feel that you wanted to spare sanemi, and that angers him more.

once again, muzan leaped towards sanemi, and even if sanemi did manage to slice his arm off, it still regenerated in less than a millisecond, causing him to be pounced towards the wall, with a blow to his neck.

muzan had now wrapped his fingers around sanemi’s neck, holding the white-haired man three inches from the ground, against the almost broken cemented wall.

a gasp escaped your lips, it happened so fast, out of reality. this is what the demon king is, a hundred times more powerful than his companions, than his creations.

you could only look at sanemi’s face turning almost purple, and trying to save him would only mean you wished for death.

“y/n... i’ll give you a choice. come, and be a demon, or stay... with this weakling and rot together?” the last two words did he emphasize, along with sending you a glare.

it scared you, sending shivers down to your spine, even.

quiver left your lips as you chose reluctantly, “please.. l-let him go..” yet, it was not the choice of a heart, but the choice of a pity.

unbeknowstly, muzan let go of sanemi, causing him to drop to the ground, a thud following right after.

muzan sauntered towards you, and that was then, when you realized you were chained to him from all eternity, the moment he had laid his eyes on you, and the moment that his hand clasped yours.

“let us go.” even if you did not say anything, muzan knew you chose him, when you asked to let sanemi go. after all, you only asked for the benefit and pity of the other, but not for the everlasting paradise of his. which meant, to muzan and you, you chose him.

but, before muzan could even take you away,

“y/n! stop!” sanemi tried to push the fight still within him, but as soon as he tried to stand, it all fell back down, including himself.

“fuck!- y/n! he’s brainwashing you!” yeah, maybe, he is. but does that even matter anymore? all the days you’ve spent together with this man had proved you enough that you were not brainwashed, that this was all by your will.

muzan smirked. you showed no signs of hesitation, and so, he continued dragging you away, away from that miserable excuse of a man.

as you were dragged away, each of your memories with sanemi taunted you. he was the very man you swore to be with your whole life, and to protect using your whole life, was now crawling in urgency to save you from the devil, but yet, you let yourself get dragged away by the devil himself.

even if you no longer had feelings for him, a pang could you feel in your heart, that you had stooped so low and betrayed the so-called love of your life just weeks passed.

the dragging continued, until you could no longer see sanemi, and could only hope for the best.

~~~~~

the next morning, you woke up in an unfamiliar bed. it was of a soft, bouncy mattress, that even if you wanted to wake up, you’ll be lulled to sleep again.

then, the first thing you saw was the wall — an eerie color of red, one that reminded you of that crimson-eyed man so much. red roses decorated on the table, and on your right was a lamp, and on your left was a glass of water.

you chugged it down, the lump and dry of your throat was now satiated.

next, you stood up, and saw a mirror across the room. you walked over to it, and found yourself in a pretty, white nightgown.

next, the door slowly creaked open, revealing the very man you chose — muzan.

“ah, if it isn’t a beauty lingering in my room i see.” muzan teased and leaned against the doorframe, all the while little anna appeared right behind him, with swollen, puffy eyes.

she rushed up to you with open arms, all the while you accepted her whole-heartedly, asking her what had happened, whilst patting and rubbing her back.

“mom- mommy’s gone!!” sniffles, then come the loudest sobbing, as you suspiciously looked at muzan who had no look of little care nor sympathy.

“and that’s exactly why y/n here will treat you out.” his smirk widened, causing you to glare at him — knowing full well that he’s the main reason of this child’s despair.

but yet, you have no choice. “wait for me outside, okay? i’ll change first.” you wiped little anna’s tears away, and stood up.

you have no choice, because this will be how you’ll live from now on. and you don’t even hate it. not even a single bit.

★ • ° ` — BONUS:

“kyahahaha! mama can’t catch me, mama can’t catch me!” the little child giggled, as you sighed and took off your blindfold, wondering how she makes up these cruel games, and wondering how she makes you play these games.

“oh, no, i’ve fallen. i’m resting now.” you said exasperatedly, and so fake, that the child didn’t believe you and decided to sit on the couch with you too.

it’s tiresome, being a mother of two girls, but, they have become your only source of living, same goes with your husband.

ever since muzan took you under his shelter, he treated you like you were truly his wife, and turned you into a demon, same went for little anna, who successfully turned into one despite the very low chances.

and now, you look around the living room of your home, as you sit comfortably on the couch.

the walls of your home were fairly white, some parts in beige, but you didn’t miss the detail of the lighting of the chandelier, one so bright and grand simply hanging on top of you.

you wonder, if you truly deserved this luxury, for over a thousand years of living, that you’ve reached this modernized world, that most of your friends probably died of old age.

you couldn’t stop thinking about it, when the door bell rang, and as soon as the very people entered, your heart beat in joy, and your eyes sparkled under the same chandelier.

you walked up and greeted anna, who was now fairly an inch taller than you.

then next, came muzan walking in, with who knows what his smirk was about now.

even the little child you were playing with earlier simply stated; “daddy, why do you look like that?”

as if offended, muzan just stared down at the little one as all of you laughed happily.

you and your girls love teasing the only man in the family, after all.

───────────── ☆ ─────────────

89 notes · View notes

palajae · 2 years ago

Text

i like you.

PAIRING ▸ dancer! niki x dancer! reader

GENRE ▸ dancer! au, a2ls, romance, fluff, humor

WORD COUNT ▸ 4.5k

SUMMARY ▸ a collab with one of the best dancers at your studio might not sound too bad. it would’ve been amazing, except for the fact that in the ten years you’ve known nishimura riki, you’ve only spoken a total of two words to your beloved dance partner.

AKA a try not to be awkward challenge.

NOTES ▸ like one kiss? not proofread, if i missed anything please let me know! // a merry merry christmas to anyone who celebrates it:)))

PLAYING ▸ i like you by post malone (ft doja cat). | series masterlist.

AS THE MUSIC ENDS, THE SOUND OF YOUR HEAVY BREATHING FILLS THE AIR.

Another day of practice, another day of exhaustion and a lot of sweating. Unbeknownst to you as you wipe your forehead with your shirt, a small group stands outside the door to your practice room, peeking in through the tiny window.

They whisper in awe after experiencing your performance, just separated by a mere door from a few feet away. Your fluidity, attention to even the tiniest details, the look in your eyes, it was all different.

No wonder it seemed like you were on another level, separated from the others since the beginning by an invisible barrier known as raw talent and skill.

The only other ‘one’ like you was Nishimura Riki, or more commonly referred to as Niki. Between all the trainees at your dance company, you two were different. You just stood out the minute you walked into a room.

If you were being honest, you’ve only interacted with Niki before at the company studio like... once. A total of five minutes in each other’s presence that consisted of bowing politely and greetings before he was called away by his sister. You forgot but probably said something along the lines of “good morning,” or literally anything else that couldn’t have made it any more awkward than it already was.

That was your first impression of Niki. Before that, you only heard of his impressive skill when you first joined over ten years ago, especially since he was the studio founder’s son. You heard all about how he started dancing when he was three and had kept going since.

Besides that, most of your time was spent practicing alone and occasionally with friends or instructors. And when competition season came around, it was even worse.

That was when more than half your day was spent in one of the practice rooms, going over your multiple routines and rehearsing until you physically couldn’t anymore.

Today was no different. The first competition was in about a week and everyone had been on edge. That meant no time to waste on trivial matters like- in your case- watching others dance.

Your friends understood how seriously you took dancing, because they were the same. Maybe they didn’t have as much passion as you, meaning they weren’t willing to sacrifice as much of their normal lives, but again that was what separated you from the rest.

There were plenty of events and sections that your studio entered in, and you yourself were no different, having entered in numerous ones already. All trainees were busy preparing for competition day, countless routines performed simultaneously.

A figure coldly pushes past the small crowd of dancers, knocking only once on the door before entering the room you occupied. They whisper in alarm and shock at how urgently he entered.

You gulp down water, head turning towards the sound from the entrance. You tilt your head in acknowledgment, “Instructor Woo. What’s up?”

The serious expression on his face sends alarms ringing through your body, but you try to keep calm. Maybe you were reading too much into it. Your teacher was always known as the cold and strict type when you first met, but after years your relationship had melted into a respectable junior-senior one.

“Follow me.”

Confused, heart rate beginning to pick up, you grab your stuff and follow him, ignoring the fellow bystanders waiting outside the door.

Once you’ve reached the safety and privacy of his office, you falter. Mainly because you weren’t alone- it wasn’t just the two of you.

Niki stands there with unreadable look as he spots you the same time you spot him. Recognition flickers in his eyes for split second before he glances away.

You cross your arms, barely addressing him. “What’s going on?”

You give your instructor a purposeful stare as if to say, why in the world were you alone in a room with him and Nishimura Riki?

He sighs, clasping his hands together. “Two dancers who entered in a couple performance just got into a minor accident. They’re on bed rest for at least a week.”

It was just like him to go straight to the point. You know exactly what he means, but you don’t understand why he’s letting you know.

You frown. “I’m sorry to hear that… but why are you telling us that?”

Niki side-eyes you, mumbling something along the lines of, “isn’t it obvious?”

You glance at him for a second before returning your attention to Instructor Woo.

“I apologize for bringing this upon you so late, but we need you two to sub in.”

No. No one does that. No one is given an event with less than a week to prepare. Especially not, your eyes slide to the boy next to you again, especially not if you had to work with someone who was essentially a stranger to you.

It’s like your instructor already knew what you were about to say before you opened your mouth, holding up a hand to stop you in your tracks.

“I know we’re asking for a lot, but you two are the best dancers at the company. That’s a fact. We decided on you two for a reason- because we all know you can pull it off together.”

You’re speechless while Niki just stands there. With no reaction, Instructor Woo sighs and pulls out his phone. He taps the screen before turning it to show you and Niki.

Two people, you’re guessing the two that got in the accident, dancing to…

Havana?

Immediately, you shake your head. “No. I’m not doing that.”

He sits up straighter, “You don’t get to make a decision-“

You turn to Niki, “No offense, but I barely know you, and there’s no way we’re dancing to that song together.”

He shrugs, “None taken.”

“Y/n y/l/n.” At that, you almost shrink.

“What happened to your professionalism? You have less than a week to learn a new dance, what other choice do you have?”

Perhaps you should’ve taken the time before to watch Niki dance- even seeing him perform once would’ve helped and provided some familiarity.

Regardless, the stubbornness in you just tells you that it doesn’t fit your own style, and you don’t want to- you just can’t do a dance if it won’t be executed up to your standards. You won’t ever be satisfied.

You clench your hands into fists, “I’m sorry but I know I can’t possibly perform that dance as well as I want to in less than a week. Perhaps if I had more time to work on it, then I would agree but I don’t have the luxury, so I can’t. There’s only one other option we have and I’d rather take that risk for a better performance. I’m fully willing to take responsibility if it doesn’t work out.”

For the first time, Niki agrees with you, nodding along to your words.

Your dance instructor grumbles and you look at Niki before speaking up again.

“We’ll choose a song and choreograph it ourselves,” your voice sounded much more confident than how much confidence you actually had in yourself.

He drops his phone on his desk, eyes widen and mouth set in a firm line. “Do you know what you’re saying? A whole new dance in six- technically, five days?”

And you nod.

By the end, Instructor Woo has given up and left it to you two to figure things out. You feel grateful for the immense trust he has in you because honestly, you don’t have even close to enough trust in yourself.

The walk out of his office is silent. In all the times you’ve seen Niki around the company, this is the first time you’ve been so close to him. It’s strange seeing him up close, he was much more defined (and taller) than you thought.

“Hey, uh,” you say hesitantly, “I just wanted to apologize for saying all that without discussing with you first.”

Niki recognizes your words with a tiny nod and you bite your lip, unsure if you’re about to regret your next words.

“If you really want, we can just do the previous dance.”

But to your surprise, Niki frowns. “No, I’d rather make a new choreography that fits us better too.”

And he sees you smile for the first time.

You were grateful for the fact that you spent the previous month practicing and getting the hang of your other routines. Only because originally, your plan was to spend the last week leading up to competition day just finalizing moves and reviewing until after the bombshell that Instructor Woo dropped on you and Niki and your plans were mostly scrapped.

You supposed Niki’s plan was the same, due to one night that you walked into your planned meetings and caught the end of one of his performances. Judging by the slight shine off his skin and heavy breathing, he must’ve been dancing for a while.

“Hey,” you reply meekly. He gives a short greeting back before focusing back on a certain part of the choreo. As you get your things settled and start warming up, you realize you can’t stand the silence.

“Are you, uh, ready for competition? Besides our performance together?”

“Yeah. Maybe not as much as I would like but as Woo said, we don’t have a choice.”

You nod silently. “Then… should we decide on a song?”

“Okay.”

So far so great, you think internally with a grimace. You knew close to nothing about Niki and now you have to work with him for almost a week straight. Not to forget the fact that you’re almost always the first to speak to him. The long silence was starting to get to your head.

“Since this is a couple performance…” you inhale, “what kind of song would you rather do?”

Obviously his preference wasn’t the sensual and slower type, and if it was, it obviously wasn’t a dance he would want to do with a stranger like you (and neither would you). Even so, you could just tell that wasn’t a song he would pick.

He drums his fingers on the wooden floor, seemingly in deep thought. You forgot he also knew close to nothing about you as well and was probably taking your impression into account.

“How about Hip hop? RnB?” He looks at you questioningly, and you’re a bit shocked. Was that a lucky guess or did you just have similar styles?

Niki must’ve noted the look on your face because he scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “Do you not like that?”

You’re quick to shake your head, “No no, that’s not it at all! Actually, I’d prefer to do those.”

“Oh. Cool.” He smiles thoughtfully to himself, although you miss it.

You hum, “I like you?”

Niki suddenly shoots up, mouth gaping as he blinks at you. “E-Excuse me? I’m sorry, but I barely know-”

You roll your eyes, becoming a little flustered as you realize the double meaning behind your words. “I-I meant the song, you idiot. Who would suddenly confess like that..” your voice ends in a grumble.

“It’s i like you by post malone,” your words come out unintentionally louder to get your point across.

“Ah.” He pauses for a moment before agreeing, ears reddening. “Sure. I like his music.”

Then came the real challenge. Creating a whole new dance from scratch.

Actually, you wanted to use that song for your own dance but seeing a bit of Niki’s dancing, you realized it would be a good fit for him too. You even brainstormed some moves but thinking about Niki’s reaction made you unsure.

It’s fine, you reassure yourself. You’ll come up with something, no matter what. The instructors chose you two for a reason. You needed to trust yourself and your partner.

You suddenly clap your hands. “Let’s get to it.”

You prided yourself on making others, especially strangers, comfortable with you. Even if it didn’t seem like it with your usual blank expression and valued independence. Yes you prioritized dance, but time with others was something you enjoyed. Niki wasn’t an exception, except that he was pretty shy by himself.

It surprised you a little, as from what you’ve heard from others he wasn’t like that at all. Then again, people said he was scary and like an annoying little kid at the same time so you couldn’t form an opinion right off the bat.

As you mapped out ideas, pieces began to fall into place. That was one of the things you enjoyed most about choreographing your own performance. The satisfaction as parts began to connect and your hard work began to show its efforts, it was the best feeling for you.

It helped that you two had a lot of experience under your belt- but that didn’t mean it was easy.

You both fall to the floor, drained. After more than 12 hours spent on experimenting new moves, you check the time. 4am.

You were used to it but adding on the burden of knowing you had about four and a half days left, your body felt heavier.

“How far did we get?” You breathe out, eyes closing.

“Almost one minute.” The sound of his husky voice makes you shiver and your eyes open. He must be tired.

You sit up, trying to lighten the mood. “Hey, that’s more progress than I thought. We’re almost a third done,” you remind.

“You’re right.” He groans while sitting up and your forehead creases in concern.

“Niki, here.”

You toss him water and he thanks you with surprise evident on his face. “Thanks.”

“How much sleep did you get?” Although your actions seemed like they were out of concern, you simply didn’t want your partner passing out on the dance floor. Not when you had several more runs to get through.

Niki runs a hand through his hair, “Three hours, maybe? I was practicing and didn’t realize the time…”

His words strike you in gut. Real hard, because you were the exact same. You don’t know the amount of times you had answered in almost the exact same way when others asked you.

You huff, “Go home and get some sleep, Niki. I want us both to be in our best condition since we have such limited time.”

He lets out a half scoff and half laugh. “You sound just like Instructor Woo. Why should I listen to you?”

“Okay,” you hold out your hand, “I want the water back. I bought it with my own money since the water here tastes like the sewers.”

He pauses mid gulp and you can’t hold back your laugh. Swallowing, he stares at you indignantly.

“Hey, take that back. Our company water is perfectly fine.”

You forgot he was the son of the CEO, but that still didn’t change your opinion. You make a sound of disapproval, “I don’t ever see you drinking it.”

Okay, so you got him there. He makes an expression like he’s been caught before breaking out in laughter and you can’t help but join in.

The song you chose, you think it really united your styles together. That could’ve played a factor in why you and Niki got along quickly. Or the shared pressure that you both felt in order to get this dance executed as close as you could to perfect.

It had only been a few days spent with Niki and yet you could (and would) already consider yourself friends. After 10 years of passing each other in the halls silently, it was suddenly like you knew him all that time.

Practicing was fun with Niki. He got you. Your humor matched, and the fact that you both learned the choreo quickly lightened a bit of the heavy load off your shoulders and made you less pressured. Countless hours of working hard paid off, making your miniature breaks with him even more worth it.

To the point you would go out for a treat to reward yourself for the hard work.

When he suggested ice cream, you gladly agreed. You paid for the both of you as Niki protested, leading to hours of bickering that didn’t stop during your practices. It only ended with a promise of next time, he would get it.

“I said it was fine, Niki.”

Your hands are on your hips, lips blowing out exasperated air as you shake your head again.

You knew he was stubborn but not this stubborn. He rolls over to lay on his stomach, eyes peeking up you. Even when half of his face was covered by his arms, you could see the displeasure written all over his face.

“You didn’t even let me pay you back!” He childishly objects, kicking his feet off the ground. You bite back a smile, fingers hovering over the play button.

“Are you done? So we can continue practicing?”

You hear a muffled no as he gets up, warming up his body.

“I’m not gonna give up,” he reminds as you approach him, getting into position. “Sure,” you agree with a grin, waiting for the countdown.

“Next time. I’m getting it.”

Next time? Taken by surprise, you start a second too late, glaring as Niki watches you with an amused yet fond look. You didn’t mean to get flustered but the longer Niki gives you that sly smirk, the harder it is for you to continue going on. When the section ends, you shove him and he snickers. You’re both breathing heavily but with matching smiles on your faces.

“Why were you looking at me like that?” You try your best to seem annoyed.

“What do you mean?” The fake clueless shrug makes you narrow your eyes at him.

“Oh, so now you’re playing innocent?”

“Who was the one that couldn’t focus again?”

It’s because of you, you think silently.

You weren’t sure if you were the only one that looked forward to working with Niki all day, seeing his face light up and laughing for hours on end until your stomach hurt.

You really enjoyed seeing the side of him that many others couldn’t see, because it meant you had reached a deeper level.

It meant Niki trusted you- he trusted you to be a little more vulnerable and show more of himself to you.

You weren’t sure if you were the only one that felt it.

With about two days left, you two had been over the routine countless times. As much as you enjoyed the song, you were starting to get sick of hearing it again and again.

Everyone else at the studio recognized it too. They saw your dedication and time spent together, the younger trainees whispering a lot in awe.

Even at home in your bed quite late at night, while you were up texting your friends, they noticed it all too.

Don’t you think you’re spending a lot of time with Niki?

I’ve never seen you around hang someone so much..

him neither-

You frown while reading the messages, fingers already flying across the screen to type out a response. Your reasoning?

You both had an insane drive to win, and if that meant practicing 15 hours a day together, so be it.

Your friends didn’t believe it.

hmmmm nah

We keep hearing that niki never spends this much time with someone else

like, not even with his friends

You frown. You don’t even know what they’re getting at. With that, you leave their questions on read.

But those messages stay in the back of your head leading up to the performance. You don’t think it’s a good idea to dwell, all your time and energy needed to be on this final performance and your other ones, and you didn’t want to break the groove. So you hold back. At least, you try to the night before competition day.

The song ends and you don’t realize how much you’re ready to never listen to this song again. As much as you liked i like you (ironic, you know), the stress and trauma of the whole situation kinda ruined it.

At least you had Niki to share it with.

Satisfied with your performance, you look over at him and laugh, holding out a hand for a high five. He easily high-fives you back, grinning in content.

“Good luck, partner.”

Your smile unconsciously grows. “Good luck to you tomorrow, too.”

“Don’t sleep too late and stress about it, okay? We got this.” He must see through you and into the anxiety settled in your system since he was the one reassuring you, not the other way around.

“Yes sir,” you joke. “You too, though,” you add warmly and he nods, almost shy? to the point where you can notice the sudden shift in the air. You cock your head-

“I just wanted to say thank you… and I’m glad that you’re my partner.”

Your eyes widen at his confession, wandering around before deciding to settle on his shoes. You felt your heart pounding as the texts your friends sent echo in your head.

“Me too,” you reply softly.

The day of competition, you feel the familiar jitters in the pit of your stomach. Your duo with Niki came at the end after your solo performances, so you had some time to prepare yourself.

With all the chaos of calling performers and getting hair and makeup done, you hadn’t seen him at all. But you knew he was going to ace it. You only hoped you would too.

Your name is called and you exhale. It’s time.

By the end of your solo performances, you’re exhausted. But you can’t stop now. Ten minutes until you’re supposed to be called for your duo performance and you don’t know where Niki is. You were already dressed and waiting for your partner.

You asked several people if they saw him but to no avail. Just for a second, you decide to sit down somewhere with free space to rest your tired legs. Competition day was high energy and constantly draining, but that’s what you loved about it.

“Y/n!”

Your head whips up, glancing around to find the owner of the voice. Niki pushes past a few people, getting over to you while panting.

“Niki!” You call out, surprised.

He stops in his tracks. You say his name again, slightly concerned this time.

“You look really good.”

You cough, trying to hide your embarrassment at his sudden compliment.

“You do too.”

He fiddles with his hands, biting back a smile. “Thanks. Sorry I was late, my event ended 15 minutes later because of someone who didn’t show.”

You roll your eyes, “That’s sucks- I get it, don’t worry.” Eyes shining, Niki takes a step closer and your mouth falls shut.

It felt like he was about to say something, probably something important, but you hear your names getting called. You give him a look as if to say, go ahead and say it quickly, but he shakes his head.

Instead of words, Niki offers a hand and you gladly squeeze it, heart feeling like it was going to burst as you made your way to the stage.

Showtime.

Needless to say, you aced it. The cheering crowd and endless compliments from your fellow friends and dancers made it even more obvious. You didn’t get much alone time with Niki after the performance, but it was okay because you knew you would see him at the award ceremony.

Even Instructor Woo approached you both, clapping with an impressed look. “No wonder you two are the best, you did not disappoint me. I’m proud of you guys, keep it up.”

You share amused looks with Niki, having already joked and laughed to the point of tears from Woo’s cold persona.

The hardest part was the time for awards.

As they called out different categories and sections, you zoned out in your seat. How could you not? After a long week of practice, practice, and more practice, your mind flew through the past couple of days.

Meeting Niki again, getting to know him, adjusting your dancing together, having fun together, stressing together- all in the span of a week. Yet as he sat a few chairs from from you, you realized you didn’t want it to end.

You wanted to keep doing all those things with him. It felt like you had known each other for years, and besides the fact that most of those years were spent as strangers, you realize your time together was precious- it had just started. Regardless of if you won or not, you didn’t want Niki and you to be strangers again.

You didn’t want to lose him.

Just as that realization hits you, you hear the announcer call out your and Niki’s section. Your breath hitches as your hands grow clammy. Unbeknownst to you, Niki’s eyes flick over to you.

“And the first place is…”

You can hear your heart pounding, blood rushing. In that second, your eyes meet his. Everything without any words, you understand with that single glance.

You don’t, or do, expect your name to be called, followed by Niki’s.

Without even thinking about it, you rise up from your seat, fellow trainees and dancers cheering so loud the sound echoed in your head for days after, and even through all of that you can only focus on Niki.

People get out of the way as your body moves on its own, directing you towards him as he gets closer. Suddenly, you’re engulfed by Niki, his scent filling your nose as he picks you up and spins you around. That’s when you break out of it.

He’s laughing, you’re smiling.

“Congrats, partner.”

You laugh brightly, reaching to tussle his hair. “Congrats too. I’m proud of you.”

His gaze sucks you in- it’s like you can’t even force yourself to look away. You could care less about the surrounding people.

“Maybe after,” he starts carefully, and you swallow, “after the competition is over- do you wanna like, get out of here?”

A huge wave of relief washes over you. Maybe it’s the relieved pressure of finishing this performance or the way that Niki’s staring at you while biting his lips in what you think is nervousness.

“I would very much like that,” you pause and Niki looks visibly happier at that compared to just seconds earlier when you two were just announced as the winners. You shyly cough,

“-and I very much like you.”

Niki freezes at you abrupt confession. You avoid his stare, swiftly regretting your heat of the moment decision.

Without realizing it in your embarrassment, Niki swoops down to give you a quick peck. Very much in front of your whole company. Gasps and squeals fill the air, unless you just imagined it.

Now you’re the one taken aback.

“Me too,” he smirks while murmuring,

“I like you.”

Those three words you thought you were sick of didn’t sound too bad coming out of Niki’s mouth.

MAIN TAGLIST ▸ @precioussoulofmine @lov3niki @heesterical @jungwonize @rerequire @nvertheless @duolingofanaccount @hoeshii @love-4-keum @nyanggk

SERIES TAGLIST ▸ @axartia @makiswrld @jovibaes @ksphnrk @soobnism @asyleums @ayayiiie @r3niun @ahnneyong @jakahbot @thisisnotjacinta @jjongsha @chatoyervictoria @swnheo @onthevergeofdepression @skzenhalove @miraculouspabu @hoeshii @yjjungwon @qimmylol @lilactangerine @loves0ft @rosie-is-everywhere @ijustmetyouandthisiscrazy

UNABLE TO TAG ▸ @/naheeyounga @/lenadoll @/hanienie @/nanaheex @/classicroyalty @/msxflower @/heeniveristy

@kflixnet

send an ask/dm to be added to the ‘play it to my melody’ taglist!

#enhypenwriters #enhypen x reader #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen fluff #niki x reader #niki x you #niki imagines #niki fluff

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avoidghost · 1 year ago

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✨ 4.5K DTIYS ✨

I've been meaning to do this for a few months now -- so better late than never 😅

Anyways, in celebration of 4.5K on Insta and also to celebrate milestones I missed on Tumblr and Twitter, I wanted to do a DTIYS, and of course it's my boys 🥺💖

✨ RULES ✨

- You must be following me! New followers accepted and welcomed 😚

- Draw this in your own style! Change the colors, the poses, expressions, continuity, swap out Deadlock for Drift/Hot Rod for Rodimus/etc -- as long as its dratchrod/hotratchlock and they're giving each other a call/text, it counts!

- Post your entry here on Instagram, Tumblr, or Twitter and tag it as #avoidghostsDTIYS -- I'll be sharing your post in my story and compiling each entry into a story highlight ❤️

- No tracing please. Any entries blatantly traced will be disqualified, but re-entries are accepted! Remember: "Draw this in YOUR own style!"

- One entry per person (I won’t be mad if you drew them more than once — but no extra points unfortunately 😔)

- All mediums are accepted ❤️

✨ PRIZES (please refer to my commission page in my pinned post for examples) ✨

1st: Full Body Full Color Style 2

2nd: Full Color Half Body Style 2

3rd: Flat Color Half Body Style 1

✨ DEADLINE: JULY 31st ✨

(any questions, feel free to reply or DM me :3 )

#avoidghostsDTIYS #transformers #dratchrod #hotratchlock #ratchet #hot rod #deadlock #original art #long post

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syd-djarin · 1 year ago

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Sugar, Spice & Please Fuck Me Nice (neighbor!joel AU)

chapter two: sex and candy

*18+ minors DNI*

tags: mentions of anxiety, religious shame/guilt, reader being insecure, mentions of (negative) past sexual experiences and partners, brief mention of alcohol consumption, v fingering, oral (f receiving) joel is a cunnilinguist, 2000’s nostalgia, mentions of the patriarchy (booooo) squirting (sue me), Joel-Land™️™️™️

reader has hair that she fidgets with, "grows warm" /"cheeks burning" but not necessarily blushing, with embarrassment - minor edits to make this more inclusive for my readers <3

word count: ~4.5k

Author/s notes: Sorry it took longer to get ch. 2 out than I anticipated. I've had a lot going on in my personal life (I got a new job!) But I promise it won't be as long for ch. 3 hehe. this is a lengthy chapter, hope y'all enjoy!!

had to name reader's bestie after my dear friend @katiexpunk <3 thanks for always letting me run ideas by you and being a peach in general.

and thank you to @softiedingo for being a beta reader as well <333

It has been two weeks since you introduced yourself to Joel and Sarah. You hate to admit it, but you haven’t been able to stop thinking about Joel. Your mind will stay preoccupied temporarily, then they circle back to him.

Throwing clothes in the washer? Joel.

Boiling water for pasta? Joel.

Doing the dishes? Joel.

In the shower? Yep, definitely Joel.

And this morning is no different.

You’re staring at yourself in your bathroom mirror, brushing your teeth, mind deep into Joel-Land, then your thoughts take a sharp turn - for the worst. You’re thinking about all of your past sexual encounters.

How unsatisfying and selfish your past partners were. You hadn’t been romantically involved with any of your past partners, all of them casual-no-strings-attached type of arrangements.

Even if the sex was casual, did that mean the pleasure had to be one-sided? Of course not.

However, after each encounter you found yourself feeling disappointed, and truthfully, it made you feel…..icky. Was it religious shame? Even though you don’t participate or believe in any religion anymore, your formative years were spent in a conservative, Christian church; where sex is bad, and sin is bad. And you don’t want to be bad, because you will go to hell. You don’t even believe in hell, yet, there is a small voice in your head that still worries about eternal damnation. Jeez, I should really see a therapist about that.

Perhaps it’s the misogyny and sexism, rampant and hard-wired into society and into mind’s since the beginning of time.

Your internal theological and philosophical debate gives you a throbbing headache.

+++

It’s Friday. Halloween falls on a Tuesday this year, so most Halloween celebrations would occur this weekend.

If you were still in college, you’d most likely attend a costume party at a frat party and drink until the sun came up. These days, you don’t recover from hangovers as easily and find the anxiety spiral that follows a night of drinking to be too debilitating so you’re planning on keeping it chill this year.

You’re pouring out a bag of candy into a bowl, so candy is easily accessible for your sweet tooth cravings when you hear a strong, loud cluster of knocks at your front door.

Knock. Knock. Knock-knock.

Shaking off your initial startling from the sudden knocks, you open your front door to find Joel. He’s leaning his shoulder on the doorframe, one half of his body bears all his weight. He swiftly straightens upright again when you greet him. He looks even more handsome from the last time you saw him. He’s wearing dark wash jeans that accentuate his body in the most delectable way and a black t-shirt with a faded MILLER CONSTRUCTION graphic that is just barely legible.

You have the urge to steal the well-worn shirt so you can sleep in it, relish his scent, and let it become a metaphorical embrace of Joel.

Fuck, I really am down bad, you internally scold yourself to come back to the present moment.

“Joel! Ho-how are you?” you manage to creak out through nerves and surprise.

His beautiful, dark brown eyes are staring right into yours. His eyes could compel you to do anything.

“I’m doin’ alright, you?” The word ‘alright’ is drawn out making it sound like “awllll-right”

“Can’t complain. Y’all settling in okay?” tilting your head unconsciously, as if to convey genuinity.

“Oh yeah, ‘s a nice neighborhood. Sarah seems to be enjoyin’ her new school, I was a lil worried she’d have a hard time but she’s a smart kid and gets along with pretty much everyone. Awful silly of me to worry in the first place…” he’s rambling, hands moving at the same pace as his speech.

You find his rambling to be cute, it’s a bit of a juxtaposition from his strong, demanding presence.

Joel realizes he’s nervous after he concludes his tangent. When’s the last time he felt nervous around women? Especially a sweet, non-threatening woman like you?

“Anywho, I came over to uh- ask you somethin’... Sarah liked your cookies so much she wants to learn how to make them herself and was wondering if you’d teach her?”

“I’d love to!” You shoot him a flattered smile, learning that Sarah wanted you to teach her to bake makes your heart sing.

Joel is amazed at you. You agreed to teach a twelve year old, one who you hardly know, to bake. He shouldn’t be surprised given your sweet demeanor and generous heart, but he’s in awe of you.

“You sure? I mean, you obviously don’t have to if you don’t want—”

“Joel, I’d be honored to. Send her over in an hour,” you cut him off, hoping to convey your delight in teaching someone else to bake, the same way your grandma did for you.

Joel can’t stop the shit-eating grin that appears on his face.

“Sounds good. I’ll send her your way, sweetheart,” he lingers just for a moment to watch your reaction to the nickname, the one he’s used twice.

You desperately try to keep your composure cool and collected, but you’ve never had a good poker face. You wear your emotions like an accessory. And right now, you are flustered. You divert your attention to the ground as if looking into his eyes would expose your every thought.

“O-okay!” You can barely stammer out a response before he is pivoting off your porch, back to his own house.

You can’t see it with his back turned to you, but Joel is smirking to himself and feeling amused at his effect on you.

+++

“You sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“Yes, dad. I don’t need a chaperone to bake cookies. I’m a big girl now, remember?”

Yes, he is acutely aware that she is a big girl now. Well, not really, to him she will always be his baby girl, but that doesn’t stop her from growing up. Too fast for his liking. The idea of her becoming a teenager almost gives him a coronary. It won’t be long before she’s driving, then graduating, and college. What if she wants to attend a school in another state? Across the country?

He feels queasy at that thought, afraid that she will grow out of thinking her dad is the coolest, afraid that she doesn’t want to spend time with her old man anymore.

He wills himself to think about something else. Anything else. Inevitably his thoughts wander to you.

Joel hates to admit it, but he was hoping to join Sarah for the baking lesson. He wants an excuse to be in your radiant, sweet, beautiful presence again.

While you can’t stop thinking about him, he can’t stop thinking about you.

Driving home from work? You.

Making dinner? You.

Making his morning coffee? You.

Laying in bed? Oh, yeah. Definitely you.

Exactly one hour passes when Sarah arrives at your house. You’ve already set up in your kitchen in preparation; already pre-measured the ingredients, setting out all the necessary baking equipment and you even found a spare apron for Sarah to wear. Ya know, to give her the full experience.

“Oooh, this apron makes me feel like a professional!” Sarah exclaims after tying the strings on her designated apron.

“Well, after this, you will be.”

You can’t remember the last time you felt this much joy. Sharing a passion of yours with someone who is eager to learn from you delights your heart and soul in a way you didn’t know you needed until now.

“So first, we’ll need to combine the butter and sugar,” Sarah dumps the butter and sugar into the mixing bowl. “Great, now we want to beat the mixture until it looks fluffy.”

She is completely engrossed in watching for the desired texture, furrowing her brows together in a way that mimics Joel. You find it adorable.

“Excellent, now we are going to add in the eggs and vanilla extract.”

She follows your instructions to a T, meticulous and concentrated as if she were mixing hazardous chemicals in a lab.

“You’re doing great. Now let’s add our dry ingredients, half of it at a time.”

Her eyes light up when it’s time to fold in the chocolate chips. You both agree it’s the best part, both of you indulging in a few before adding them to the dough.

You assist Sarah in rolling the dough into little balls and placing them onto the baking sheet.

While waiting for the cookies to bake, you learn more about Sarah and Joel. She tells you about their old house, the camping trip they went on this past summer, the catchy pop songs on the radio that Joel will pretend to hate but she catches him humming the tune later, how Joel makes a big breakfast for the two of them every Sunday, a ritual they started when Sarah started school - he makes pancakes just for her.

Getting a snapshot of Joel and Sarah’s lives and their dynamic makes your mega crush on Joel that much bigger. From what Sarah has shared with you, he seems like a caring, protective yet fun dad. You’re aching to learn everything about him.

“Do you have any plans for Halloween?” Sarah asks as you’re pulling the baking sheet out of the oven.

“Oh um, I usually just hand out candy to trick-or-treaters. Nothing super exciting. What about you?”

“We always order pizza and watch a scary movie - nothing super scary though. We dress up too. Well, I dress up but dad thinks he is too cool to do that so he wears the same boring mask every year,” she has a mischievous grin on her face, concocting a plan when she asks, “do you want to come over and join us?”

On one hand you’d love nothing more than to spend more time with your new friend and Joel, but on the other hand the thought of being in the same room as Joel, in his house, makes you both anxious and aroused. Dizzy, nervous, and horny makes for an unpleasant combination.

Gaining a sliver of bravery, you swallow your apprehension and say yes.

“Sure, yeah, what time should I come over?”

“6:30. And you better wear a costume!”

+++

You’ve spent the past hour trying to put a costume together. Not making any progress, you decide to seek external advice - your best friend Katie.

You both met as freshman and have been close friends ever since, even rooming together in your first off-campus apartment. She moved to the West Coast shortly after graduation, though you still keep in touch via email and phone. You give her the scoop on Joel - him moving into the neighborhood, your gigantic crush on him, how you baked cookies with Sarah yesterday. She’s impatiently waiting for you to bone your hot neighbor. Girl, I’m waiting too.

“Do you still have that bunny costume you wore junior year?”

You rummage through your tote of seasonal clothing in search of said costume. Pulling it out, you now realize just how skimpy the costume really is. Bunny ears and a tail paired with a skin tight black bodysuit leaves virtually nothing to the imagination and definitely too much skin for this occasion.

“Dude, I can’t wear this! His daughter will be there! I can’t believe I wore this out in public. This is X-Rated,” you’re growing agitated in having no success in your costume, to the point that you are tempted to tell Sarah you came down with something so you don’t have to go.

“Okay, okay, the ears and tail are still salvageable. Do you have something besides the bodysuit?”

“Ummm…” you trail off into the phone, frantically searching for something to replace the risque bodysuit. You find a plain white baby tee amongst the sea of clothing, deciding you can pair it with your favorite jeans, the ones that accentuate your body in all the right places.

“This could work..” muttering to yourself when a devious thought pops into your head. White shirt, no bra.

“Found it! Gotta go, loveyoubye!” You hang up the call before Katie has a chance to respond, tossing your pink Razr on your bed. Your body hums in anticipation and jitters, feeling emboldened by your no bra plot.

After throwing on your outfit, you style your hair differently than you normally do. You add several coats of mascara to your lashes, sweep on some blush that complements your skin and add a sparkly lip gloss to your lips, making them appear extra plump and juicy.

You grab a bag of Halloween candy and you practically skip across the street. Reaching the front door of your new bestie and her gorgeous dad, your confidence is replaced with a furious ball of anxiety. Your heart is palpitating and you feel your stomach churn.

Would Joel think you looked stupid? Or worse, childish? Fuck, you should’ve stayed home.

Joel opening the door snaps you out of your thought spiral but only briefly, because he’s staring at you like you’ve started growing extra limbs. He looks both puzzled and pissed?

“What uh-what’re you doing here?”

His voice has a sharpness you haven’t heard before and it stings.

You have a moment of realization.

Sarah didn’t run the invitation by her dad.

You deduct that he isn’t a fan of surprises.

Before you can formulate a response, Sarah saves you from having to do so.

“You dressed up! I’m glad you came,” she squeals while wrapping her arms around your middle in an embrace.

She looks up at Joel from where she’s latched onto you and gives her confused dad an explanation.

“Dad, it’s okay, I invited her.”

That seems to alleviate his confusion. You, on the other hand, not so much. You’re internally screaming at yourself. It’s obvious to you that Joel wasn’t expecting you, and in conclusion, doesn’t want you here.

“I didn’t mean to impose, I—I’m sorry, I’ll uh— just go back home,” fighting back tears of embarrassment, looking everywhere except at Joel. You think now is a superb time to move across the country, change your name, dye your hair, somewhere far away from this humiliation.

Joel senses you’re feeling rejected in some way.

“No, no, come on in. Jus’ wasn’t expectin’ you s’all,” he gives you his most reassuring smile.

You swallow the lump of emotions in your throat.

He didn’t expect you to come over, nor did he expect you’d show up as his personal version of a Playboy bunny. He almost busted in his jeans when he could see your nipples through your very thin white t-shirt. He thinks you’re trying to kill him.

+++

You’re starting to relax once you three settle on the couch, Sarah nestling between you and Joel, Alien on the TV. Turns out, you and Joel share a love for the film. You may or may not have gotten into a heated (playful) debate about the other films in the franchise.

Joel gets an influx of trick-or-treaters, more than you usually get, residents of the neighborhood taking advantage of this opportunity to be nosy. Again.

In between costume clad visitors, you sneak glances at Joel, who looks absolutely scrumptious tonight. His hair had been damp and combed back when you arrived, his curls now almost dry and in all their glory. He’s wearing an obviously well-loved, faded Pearl Jam concert tee that clings to his arms and grey sweatpants that sit dangerously low on his hips. You wonder if all his shirts fit like that. When he stands, you can see the outline of his dick through his sweatpants. You have to manually restrain yourself from pouncing on him. You’re soaking through your panties and you’re a little worried that if you stand, the seat beneath you will be soaked too.

The scent of his body wash invades your nostrils, a heavenly mix of sandalwood and cinnamon. You’re imagining yourself running your hands through his hair and burying your nose into his neck, alternating between kissing and sucking on the skin there. You want to taste every inch of his skin, taking your time to savor him.

Joel’s stealing glances at you, too. He’s never seen someone look so sweet and seductive, divine even. You smell warm and sweet, amber and vanilla. Not the artificial, manufactured type vanilla scent, it’s like vanilla straight from the bean. When you readjust your position on the couch to get more comfortable, your tits lightly bounce, unrestrained by a bra. He has to stifle a groan, disguising it as a cough. He wonders how much they’d bounce if you were riding his cock. Your lips are absolutely sinful. Pouty and plump, juicy from the lip gloss. The bunny ears are the nail in his coffin. He’s picturing you bent over on his couch, still wearing the bunny ears as he devours your pussy from behind.

Only a quarter of the way through the movie, a few of Sarah’s friends from her old school pop in to invite her over for an impromptu sleepover to which Joel agrees to, since they no longer go to school together.

Which means you and Joel are left alone. Together. Your body is aching to close space between you and the man you’re enamored with. You don’t know that Joel is itching to do the same.

“Sarah couldn’t stop talkin’ bout yesterday. She loved hangin’ out with ya, thanks again for doin’ that.”

“She’s welcome to come over anytime. She’s a sweet kid,” you’re beaming at the fact she enjoyed baking with you. Joel notices the way your eyes gleam, overflowing with delight.

You finally have the courage to meet his eyes. The way his eyes are raking over your entire body makes your clit throb in anticipation. Your heartbeat is erratic, thumping loudly in your ears.

The energy in the room is magnetic, pulling you and Joel closer together.

“You can uh-scoot closer t’me if ya want,” he gruffs out, beckoning you to scoot closer to him. Joel wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but you make him feel like a flustered teenage boy about to kiss a girl for the first time.

You scoot closer to Joel, hoping he doesn’t notice your body trembling from nerves.

With your body flush next to his, he stretches one of his toned arms behind your head, resting it on the back of the couch. You can feel the warmth radiating from his body and it sends a shiver down your spine, straight to your aching core.

The tension in the air is palpable, both of your bodies buzzing in arousal. You’re both pretending to watch the movie in front of you, but your minds are elsewhere. He gently removes his arm from the couch and rests it across your shoulders. It’s a seemingly innocuous gesture, but its impact makes you clench around nothing, more arousal dripping into your panties.

He leans his head down close to yours, his mouth behind your ear.

“No bra? You’re a naughty lil bunny aren’t ya?” His hot breath tickles your ear, your eyes clamp shut involuntarily and you whimper. A high-pitched, whiny whimper, and Joel’s never heard anything sweeter.

He places his other large palm on your thigh, gently squeezing it. Your skin prickling in goosebumps and your nipples are hard enough to cut glass. The wetness pooled in your panties is beyond the point of comfort.

Joel presses a chaste kiss behind your ear, eliciting another whimper from you. He peppers kisses from your neck all the way to your collarbones.

“This okay?”

“Mhmmm…” You’re already so keyed up you feel hazy. Your whole body feels hot, lit aflame by Joel’s lips on your skin.

“You gonna be a good girl for me?” he rasps while his hand is caressing your thigh, intentionally not too close to where you want him. Need him.

“Mhmmm,” you moan, still unable to form words, arousal taking over all of your bodily functions.

“Need you to use your words, honey.” He squeezes your thigh again.

He pulls his face back from your neck to look you in the eyes, and slows his movements on your thigh so you can tell him to back off or give him the green light to continue. You grab his hand on your thigh and squeeze it, to keep him from removing it.

“Joel, pleeease. Want it so bad. Need you so fuckin’ bad.”

You beg in the most sultry voice you can muster, emphasizing every syllable.

Your lust laden eyes and the way you mewl for him ignites something ravenous, primal, carnal in him. He hasn’t heard you cuss before and it sounds so filthy in your honeyed voice. His rock hard cock twitches in his pants.

He presses his plush lips against yours. It’s hesitant at first, but his apprehension dissipates when you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back with fervor. Joel deepens the kiss, one hand gripping your hip, the other hand splayed between your shoulder blades, pressing your body further into his. You tangle one of your hands in his luscious curls. He tastes like sweet peppermint and a hint of black coffee. You feel dizzy, tasting him, finally feeling him.

He breaks the kiss, guiding you to lie down on your back and props your head up on one of the couch armrests.

He’s looking down at you and he’s never seen anything more beautiful. You’re always pretty, effortlessly so. But seeing you underneath him, sweet and desperate for him? He’d do anything you ask him to.

“You’re the prettiest lil bunny. So fuckin’ pretty.”

You’re bashful under his gaze and his compliment, cheeks burning.

Joel notices you trying to shy away and he places a thumb under your chin, forcing you to keep looking at him.

Now you feel embarrassed for trying to shy away in the first place.

“Sorry I’m—”

“Nothing to ‘pologize for, sweetheart,” he’s caressing your chin with his thumb, alleviating all of the embarrassment from you.

“Wanna taste you. You’ve no idea how bad I’ve wanted to taste you. Needed to know if you were as sweet as your cookies.”

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe out, “yes - yes please, taste me, Joel”

He chuckles softly at your enthusiasm and promptly rids you of your jeans, making the leather of the couch feel cool to the back of your thighs.

Joel lets out a guttural moan when he sees your sky blue satin panties soaked through. He runs a finger over the damp spot, making you quiver. His touch is featherlight and it’s maddening. You’re squirming, hips lifting off the couch, chasing for more.

He obliges, running a finger over your clit with added pressure.

“Joel, please–” You’re a whiny mess under him, and he’s just getting started. He’s rubbing gentle circles over your bud, still-panty clad.

He presses a kiss on your belly, just below your navel. The tenderness makes your body shudder.

He finally removes your panties and you gasp when the cool air hits your throbbing pussy.

“Pretty girl with a pretty pussy to match.” Joel’s admiring the way your pussy is glistening for him, begging to be touched.

He runs a finger through your drenched seam, your juices dripping onto his thick digit. He licks his finger, then shoves it into his mouth so he can taste every drop. His eyes clamp shut, groaning at how you taste. You commit the image to memory, not wanting to forget how he looks and sounds when he tastes you for the first time.

“Knew you’d taste sweet. So fuckin’ sweet.”

Your brain short circuits when you realize that means he’s thought about this before. That he’s imagined how you’d taste. Picturing him fantasizing about you makes you light-headed.

Joel spreads your legs wider, giving him full access to your pussy. He dives in without warning, licking from entrance up to your clit.

“Fuck, Joel!” You hoarsely shout with one hand gripping the couch cushion and one tugging onto Joel’s messy curls. His beard scratches the sensitive skin of your pussy as you grind your hips into his mouth, desperate for release.

You see stars while he expertly alternates between flicking his tongue and sucking on your clit. He’s keeping a steady rhythm, on the slower side, taking his time pleasuring you. He’s enjoying this.

Obscene sounds fill the room; Joel devouring your pussy like it’s the Last Supper and your chorus of moans and expletives.

“Fuck, don’t stop, don’t you fucking stop!”

“Shitshitshit–”

“Joelllll-”

He picks up the pace, your fingers cramping from their deathgrip on the couch. You feel your peak approaching - sweat beading on your forehead, chest heaving, head thrown back in ecstasy.

Joel senses your approaching release and pushes one of his thick, dexterous fingers into your weeping hole.

He reaches for your hand that’s tangled in his hair and intertwines your fingers with his, resting your connected hands on your inner thigh. It’s overwhelming; the intimacy of your interlocked fingers paired with the filthy onslaught of his mouth.

He speeds up as he adds another finger, hitting the spot that no one except you has reached before. You never knew it could feel this amazing. You thought you were doomed to a life of bad sex.

Apparently, you just needed Joel to show you differently. And you are so glad he proved you wrong.

Joel hooks his fingers inside you bringing you closer and closer to that peak you’ve been dying to reach. You’re squeezing his fingers, both the ones inside you and the ones interlaced with yours.

“Joel I-I’m close,” you manage to choke out, mind foggy from the intense pleasure.

He sucks on your clit, hard and you’re coming, entering a euphoric plane of existence. You’re floating, body trembling, coming harder than you’ve ever come before.

Joel slows his fingers and removes his mouth from your pussy, beard glistening with your release, gently bringing you back to reality. He keeps your fingers locked with his, grounding you in the present.

The orgasmic fog clears from your brain, regaining awareness of your surroundings when you feel how drenched your lower half is. Like, really drenched. You lift your head from the armrest and look down and you’re appalled by the scene.

You fucking squirted. Everywhere.

On yourself, on the couch, on Joel. His beard is soaked completely, to the point it’s dripping down his chin. He’s just as stunned as you are.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, fuck I-” you’re scrambling to get off the couch and Joel grabs your arm, stopping you in your tracks.

“What’re you sorry for? That was so fuckin’ hot, sweetheart.”

“I-I didn’t know I could do that…”

“Oh yeah? First time ever squirtin’?

“Yeah, the first time anyone else has made me come… like, ever.”

His gaze goes dark.

You get the feeling that he’s just getting started with you.

And just like your cookies, he’d never have enough.

THE END

#joel miller #joel fic #joel x f!reader #fanfic #first fanfic #joel miller is babygirl #joel miller smut

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